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."