White and black and high and lowly,
Fell beneath the sweeping scythe-blade.
On the air was borne the crying
Of the hurrying, the fleeing,
Through the air the sad lamenting
Of the helpless and deserted,
Cries of anguish and of terror,
Wails of suff’ring and despairing.
Some brave souls remained in peril,
’Mid this notable hegira;