Darby(i)
1 Woe is me! for I am as when they have gathered the summer-fruits, as the grape-gleanings of the vintage. There is no cluster to eat; there is no early fruit [which] my soul desired.
2 The godly [man] hath perished out of the land, and there is none upright among men: they all lie in wait for blood, they hunt every man his brother with a net.