Rotherham's Emphasized Bible

Ezekiel 19

A lamentation for the princes of Israel, under the parable of lions' whelps taken in a pit,

Ezekiel 19:1 Thou, therefore, take up a dirge, for the prince of Israel; Ezekiel 19:2 and thou shalt say—How was, thy mother, a lioness! Between lions, she lay down,—In the midst of young lions, She nourished her whelps; Ezekiel 19:3 And she reared up one of her whelps—A young lion, he became, And he learned to rend prey, Men, he devoured. Ezekiel 19:4 Then nations, heard of him, In their pit, was he caught,—So they brought him with hooks, Into the land of Egypt. Ezekiel 19:5 And she saw she had waited, Lost, was her hope, Then took she another of her whelps, A young lion, she made him. Ezekiel 19:6 Yea he went to and fro amidst lions, A young lion, he became,—And he learned to rend prey, Men, he devoured; Ezekiel 19:7 And he injured his widows, And, their cities, laid waste,—And deserted, was the land, and its fulness, At the noise of his roaring. Ezekiel 19:8 Then, set upon him, the nations round about, From the provinces,—And spread over him their net, In their pit, was he caught; Ezekiel 19:9 And they put him in a cage with hooks, And brought him to Babylon's king,—They brought him into strong-holds, That his noise might be heard no more, Among the mountains of Israel.

and for Jerusalem, under the parable of a wasted vine.

Ezekiel 19:10 Thy mother, [was] like a vine of thy vineyard, By waters, was planted,—Fruitful and full of branches, she became, By reason of waters abundant; Ezekiel 19:11 And they served her as staves of power, For the sceptres of rulers, And high, became the stature thereof, With its interwoven foliage,—And it was seen by its height, By its multitude of branches. Ezekiel 19:12 Then was she uprooted in indignation, To the ground, was she cast, And, an east wind, dried up her fruit,—Broken off and withered, were her staves of power, A fire, devoured them. Ezekiel 19:13 Now, therefore, is she planted in a desert,—In a land parched and dry; Ezekiel 19:14 And there hath gone forth a fire out of her staves of rods, Her fruit, hath it devoured, And there is in her no staff of power, As a sceptre to bear rule. A dirge, it is, and hath been made, a dirge.

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