“Ha! roi de France!
Acre est toute jor en balance.”
He laments that no one will come to the help of the sacred places.
Ah! Antioch; ah! Holy Land,
Thy piteous wail has reached this strand.
We have no Godfrey, brave and bold;
The fire of charity is cold
In every Christian heart;
And Jacobin and Cordelier
May preach, but not for love or fear