Across the plains of Jordan; but no walls
Gleamed in the early sunshine; no fair flocks
Studded the bleak, swart slopes; no waving trees
Bent to the morning wind. Destruction swooped,
Like a fierce raven screaming o’er its prey,
Above the desert-waste: the seething smoke
Hung, pall-like, round the ruins: and he bowed
His head in sad yet meek submissiveness
Before the righteous judgments of his God.