"They have sold me seven harvests that I sell to Crowning Tyre;
⁠"And the Tyrian sweeps the plains
⁠"With a thousand hired wains,
"And the Cities keep the peace and—share the hire.

"Hast thou seen the pride of Moab? For the swords about his path,
"His bond is to Philistia, in half of all he hath;
⁠"And he dare not draw the sword
⁠"Till Gaza give the word,
"And he show release from Askalon and Gath.

"Wilt thou call again thy peoples, wilt thou craze anew thy Kings?
"Lo! my lightnings pass before thee, and their whistling servant brings,
⁠"Ere the drowsy street hath stirred—
⁠"Every masked and midnight word,
"And the nations break their fast upon these things.