Isaiah 23

1 The burden of Tyre. Wail, ye ships of Tarshish; for it is laid waste, so that there is no house, no entering in: from the land of Chittim it is revealed to them.

The oracle on Tyre, —Howl! ye ships of Tarshish, For it is laid too waste to be a haven to enter, From the land of Cyprus, hath it been unveiled to them.

2 Be still, ye inhabitants of the isle; thou whom the merchants of Zidon, that pass over the sea, have replenished.

Be dumb, ye inhabitants of the Coast, —Whom the merchants of Zidon, passing over the sea, once replenished;

3 And by great waters the seed of Sihor, the harvest of the river, is her revenue; and she is a market of nations.

Yea on mighty waters, was the grain of Shihor, The harvest of the Nile, was her increase, —And so she became a mart of nations.

4 Be thou ashamed, O Zidon: for the sea hath spoken, even the strength of the sea, saying, I travail not, nor bring forth children, neither do I nourish young men, nor bring up virgins.

Turn thou pale, O Zidon, For spoken hath the sea, the fortress of the sea saying, —I have neither been in pangs nor given birth I have neither brought up young men nor promoted virgins.

5 As at the report concerning Egypt, so shall they be greatly pained at the report of Tyre.

Like the report of Egypt, They shall be in pangs at the like report of Tyre.

6 Pass ye over to Tarshish; wail, ye inhabitants of the isle.

Pass ye over to Tarshish, —Howl ye inhabitants of the Coast:

7 Is this your joyous city, whose antiquity is of ancient days? her own feet shall carry her far off to sojourn.

Is this to you an exultation? Though from ancient days, is her antiquity, Yet shall her own feet carry her away, far off to dwell.

8 Who hath taken this counsel against Tyre, the crowning city, whose merchants are princes, whose traders are the honourable of the earth?

Who hath purposed this, against Tyre, The bestower of crowns, —Whose merchants are princes, Her traders the honourable of the earth?

9 The LORD of hosts hath purposed it, to stain the pride of all glory, and to bring into contempt all the honourable of the earth.

Yahweh of hosts, hath purposed it, —To humble the pride of all beauty, To make of little esteem all the honourable of the earth.

10 Pass through thy land as a river, O daughter of Tarshish: there is no more strength.

Pass through thy land as the Nile, —O daughter of Tarshish, there is no restraint any longer!

11 He stretched his hand over the sea, he shook the kingdoms: the LORD hath given a commandment against the merchant city, to destroy its strong holds.

His hand, hath he stretched out over the sea, He hath shaken kingdoms, —Yahweh, hath given command against the Phoenician coast, To destroy her fortresses.

12 And he said, Thou shalt no more rejoice, O thou oppressed virgin, daughter of Zidon: arise, pass over to Chittim; there also shalt thou have no rest.

Therefore hath he said, —No more, again, do thou exult, Thou violated virgin daughter of Zidon, —To Cyprus, arise and pass over, Even there, shall one find thee no rest.

13 Behold the land of the Chaldeans; this people was not, till the Assyrian founded it for them that dwell in the wilderness: they set up its towers, they raised up its palaces; and he brought it to ruin.

Lo! the land of the Chaldeans, This is the people that was not, Assyria, founded it for the inhabitants of the desert, —They set up its siege-towers, They demolished its palaces Made it a ruin!

14 Wail, ye ships of Tarshish: for your strength is laid waste.

Howl, ye ships of Tarshish, —For laid waste is your fortress.

15 And it shall come to pass in that day, that Tyre shall be forgotten seventy years, according to the days of one king: after the end of seventy years shall Tyre sing as an harlot.

So shall it be in that day, That Tyre shall be forgotten seventy years, According to the days of a certain king: At the end of seventy years, shall it befall Tyre according to the song of the harlot:

16 Take an harp, go about the city, thou harlot that hast been forgotten; make sweet melody, sing many songs, that thou mayest be remembered.

Take thou a lyre, Go round the city, O harlot forgotten, —Sweetly touch the strings Lengthen out the song, That thou mayest be called to mind.

17 And it shall come to pass after the end of seventy years, that the LORD will visit Tyre, and she shall turn to her hire, and shall play the harlot with all the kingdoms of the world upon the face of the earth.

So shall it be, at the end of seventy years, That Yahweh will visit Tyre, And she will return to her hire, —Yea she will play the harlot—with all the kingdoms of the earth, upon the face of the ground.

18 And her merchandise and her hire shall be holiness to the LORD: it shall not be treasured nor laid up; for her merchandise shall be for them that dwell before the LORD, for sufficient food and for durable clothing.

But her merchandise and her hire, shall be hallowed unto Yahweh, It shall not be stored up, nor hoarded, —For, to them who dwell before Yahweh, shall her merchandise belong, That they may eat to satisfaction And have stately apparel.