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19:1  “As for you, take up a dirge (funeral poem to be sung) for the princes of Israel
19:2  and say, ‘What was your mother [Jerusalem and Judah]? A lioness among lions! She lay down among young lions, She reared her cubs.
19:3  ‘When she [the royal mother-city] brought up [Jehoahaz] one of her cubs, He became a [young] lion, And he learned to catch and tear the prey; He devoured men.
19:4  ‘The nations heard about him; He was captured in their pit, And they brought him with hooks To the land of Egypt.
19:5  ‘When she saw, as she waited, That her hope was lost, She took another of her cubs And made him a young lion.
19:6  ‘And he moved among the lions; He became a young lion, He learned to tear the prey; He devoured men.
19:7  ‘He destroyed their palaces And he flattened their cities; And the land and all who were in it were appalled By the sound of his roaring.
19:8  ‘Then the nations set against him (the king) On every side from the provinces, And they spread their net over him; He was captured in their pit.
19:9  ‘They put him in a cage with hooks and chains And brought him to the king of Babylon; They brought him in hunting nets So that his voice would be heard no more On the mountains of Israel.
19:10  ‘Your mother [Jerusalem] was like a vine in your vineyard, Planted by the waters; It was fruitful and full of branches Because of abundant water.
19:11  ‘And it had strong branches for the scepters of rulers, And its height was raised above the thick branches and into the clouds So that it was seen [easily] in its height with the mass of its branches.
19:12  ‘But the vine was uprooted in [godly] wrath [by His representative] And it was thrown down to the ground; The east wind dried up its fruit. Its strong branch was broken off So that it withered; The fire [of God’s judgment] consumed it.
19:13  ‘And now it is transplanted in the wilderness, In a dry and thirsty land [of Babylon].
19:14  ‘And the fire [of Zedekiah’s rebellion] has gone out from its branch; It has consumed the vine’s shoots and fruit, So that it has in it no [longer a] strong branch As a scepter to rule.’” This is a dirge (funeral poem to be sung), and has become a dirge.