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- Стр. 160/1366
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And
plucked
a
branchlet
off
from
a
great
thorn
;
And
the
trunk
cried
,
"
Why
dost
thou
mangle
me
?
"
After
it
had
become
embrowned
with
blood
,
It
recommenced
its
cry
:
"
Why
dost
thou
rend
me
?
Hast
thou
no
spirit
of
pity
whatsoever
?
Men
once
we
were
,
and
now
are
changed
to
trees
;
Indeed
,
thy
hand
should
be
more
pitiful
,
Even
if
the
souls
of
serpents
we
had
been
.
"
As
out
of
a
green
brand
,
that
is
on
fire
At
one
of
the
ends
,
and
from
the
other
drips
