"And thou too, Moab! hide thyself in the midst of the cypress, like the
sparrow; in caverns, like the wild hare! The gates of the fortress shall
be crushed more easily than nut-shells; the walls shall crumble; cities
shall burn; and the scourge of God shall not cease! He shall cause your
bodies to be bathed in your own blood, like wool in the dyer's vat. He
shall rend you, as with a harrow; He shall scatter the remains of your
bodies from the tops of the mountains!"

Of which conqueror was he speaking? Was it Vitellius? Only the Romans
could bring about such an extermination. The people began to cry out:
"Enough! enough! let him speak no more!"

But the prisoner continued in louder tones:

"Beside the corpses of their mothers, thy little ones shall drag
themselves over the ashes of the burned cities. At night men will creep
from their hiding-places to seek a bit of food among the ruins, even at
the risk of being cut down with the sword. Jackals shall pick thy bones
in the public places, where at eventide the fathers were wont to gather.
At the bidding of Gentiles, thy maidens shall be forced to cease their
lamentations and to make music upon the zither, and the bravest of thy
sons shall learn to bend their backs, chafed with heavy burdens."

The listeners remembered the days of exile, and all the misfortunes and
catastrophes of the past. These words were like the anathemas of the
ancient prophets. The captive thundered them forth like bolts from
heaven.

Presently his voice became almost as sweet and harmonious as if he