And gladness is taken away and joy out of the plentiful field, out of the garden-land; and in thy vineyards there shall be no singing, neither shall there be shouting, as when the harvest was gathered in times of peace; the treaders shall tread out no wine in their presses; I have made their vintage-shouting to cease. The destruction wrought by the enemy has brought about the end of all happy harvesting; for what he does not destroy outright he plunders.

Continues after advertising
Continues after advertising