1. But now they that are younger than I have me in derision, Whose fathers I disdained to set with the dogs of my flock.
2. Yea, the strength of their hands, whereto should it profit me? Men in whom ripe age is perished.
3. They are gaunt with want and famine; They gnaw the dry ground, in the gloom of wasteness and desolation.
4. They pluck salt-wort by the bushes; And the roots of the broom are their food.