31. For (me thinke) I heare a noyse, like as it were of a woman trauelinge, or one laboringe of hir first childe: Euen the voyce of the doughter Sion, that casteth out hir armes, and swowneth, sayenge: Ah wo is me, how sore vexed and faynte is my herte, for them that are slayne?