Sions Elegies: Threnodia II, Eleg. 6

FOrgotten Sion hangs her drooping head,
Vpon her fainting brest; Her soule is fed
With endlesse griefe, whose torments had depriv'd her
Long since, of life, had not new paines reviv'd her:
Sion is like a Garden, whose defence
Being broke, is left to the rude violence
Of wastefull Swine, full of neglected waste;
Nor having flowre for smell, nor herbe for taste;
Heaven takes no pleasure in her holy Feasts,
Her idle Sabbaths, or burnt fat of beasts;
Both State and Temple are despoil'd, and fleec't
Of all their beauty; without Prince, or Priest.