Thy beauty, Israel, is gone;
slain in 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.]
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