At Dawn, Baldwin: storied Leper-King;

Before the Wall of Kerak,

A White Steed of Conquest, mounts,

Cross-Emblazoned Rein,

In one Brave, decrepit hand;

He sees, afar, the Gold-Green Banners,

That unfurl the Egyptian Host,

Across that shimmering Sand;

The horned crags are shining,

And in the hot shade between,

A pleasant Desert-Valley lies, Blood-ready and serene.

"Oh, Most Pleasant Kingdom!

Yet, invisible to my stricken Sight:

How must I come to You:

A bloodied Martyr in these Sands,

Or a decaying King, of Jerusalem?

Your Blessings, and Your Punishments of the Flesh:

How happily received, must both these tidings be.

I now gaze upon Saladin coldly,

With a Forgiving Wrath, near as Knowing as He:

Your Only Son, a Carpenter: Once Sacrificed,

Atop some Holy Hill, just beyond this very City.

But the Wish to pace, on working Legs,

Your Pastures, now stirs my ever-burdened Knees."