The chapter is entitled “A Dirge on the Princes of Israel,” and embraces not only the fate of Jehoahaz and Jehoiachin, but also of Zedekiah, with whom the old monarchy expired. Strictly speaking, however, the name _qînah_, or dirge, is applicable only to the first part of the chapter (vv. 2‐9), where the rhythm characteristic of the Hebrew elegy is clearly traceable.(34) With a few slight changes of the text(35) the passage may be translated thus:—
i. _Jehoahaz._
How was thy mother a lioness!— Among the lions, In the midst of young lions she couched— She reared her cubs; And she brought up one of her cubs— A young lion he became, And he learned to catch the prey— He ate men.
And nations raised a cry against him— In their pit he was caught; And they brought him with hooks— To the land of Egypt (vv. 2‐4).
ii. _Jehoiachin._
And when she saw that she was disappointed(36)— Her hope was lost. She took another of her cubs— A young lion she made him; And he walked in the midst of lions— A young lion he became; And he learned to catch prey— He ate men.
And he lurked in his lair— The forests he ravaged; Till the land was laid waste and its fulness— With the noise of his roar.
The nations arrayed themselves against him— From the countries around; And spread over him their net— In their pit he was caught. And they brought him with hooks— To the king of Babylon; And he put him in a cage, ... That his voice might no more be heard— On the mountains of Israel (vv. 5‐9).
The poetry here is simple and sincere. The mournful cadence of the elegiac measure, which is maintained throughout, is adapted to the tone of melancholy which pervades the passage and culminates in the last beautiful line. The dirge is a form of composition often employed in songs of triumph over the calamities of enemies; but there is no reason to doubt that here it is true to its original purpose, and expresses genuine sorrow for the accumulated misfortunes of the royal house of Israel.
The closing part of the “dirge” dealing with Zedekiah is of a somewhat different character. The theme is similar, but the figure is abruptly changed, and the elegiac rhythm is abandoned. The nation, the mother of the monarchy, is here compared to a luxuriant vine planted beside great waters; and the royal house is likened to a branch towering above the rest and bearing rods which were kingly sceptres. But she has been plucked up by the roots, withered, scorched by the fire, and finally planted in an arid region where she cannot thrive. The application of the metaphor to the ruin of the nation is very obvious. Israel, once a prosperous nation, richly endowed with all the conditions of a vigorous national life, and glorying in her race of native kings, is now humbled to the dust. Misfortune after misfortune has destroyed her power and blighted her prospects, till at last she has been removed from her own land to a place where national life cannot be maintained. But the point of the passage lies in the closing words: fire went out from one of her twigs and consumed her branches, so that she has no longer a proud rod to be a ruler’s sceptre (ver. 14). The monarchy, once the glory and strength of Israel, has in its last degenerate representative involved the nation in ruin.
Such is Ezekiel’s final answer to those of his hearers who clung to the old Davidic kingdom as their hope in the crisis of the people’s fate.