The words were English.

I was amazed, for I had forgotten that I knew the wizard to be a white man.
"_Thus saith the Lord God_," it cried, "_Woe to the bloody city! I will make the pile great for fire.

Heap on wood, kindle the fire, consume the flesh, and spice it well, and let the bones be burned_." He poked the beast on the altar, and a bit of burning yellow fur fell off and frizzled on the ground.
It was horrid beyond words, lewd and savage and impious, and desperately cruel.

And the strange thing was that the voice was familiar.
"_O thou that dwellest upon many waters_," it went on again, "_abundant in treasures, thine end is come, and the measure of thy covetousness.
The Lord of Hosts hath sworn by Himself, saying, Surely I will fill thee with men as with caterpillars_...." With that last word there came over me a flood of recollection.

It was spoken not in the common English way, but in the broad manner of my own folk....