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An image of mob-like attack
On my right hand rise the rabble. They thrust aside my feet, They cast up against me their ways of destruction.
They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, Without anyone’s help.
As through a wide breach they come, In the midst of the ruin they roll themselves in.
Terrors are turned on me. They chase my honor as the wind. My welfare has passed away as a cloud.