Thy beauty, Israel, is gone

Thy beauty, Israel, is gone;
Slain on the Places high is he:
The Mighty now are overthrown:
Oh, thus how cometh it to be!

Weep Israel's Daughters, weep for Saul
Who you with Scarlet hath arrayed;
Who clothed you with Pleasures all
And on your Garments, Gold hath laid

How comes it, he that mighty was
The foil in Battle doth sustain!
Thou Jonathan, oh thou (alas)
Upon thy Places high wert slain

And much distressed is my heart
My Brother Jonathan, for thee:
My very Dear delight thou wert
And wondrous was thy love to me

So wondrous, it surpassed far
The love of Women (every way:)
Oh, how the Mighty fallеn are!
How warlike Instruments dеcay!