Prudentius

Also, twelve stones from Jordan’s bed,
Left dry when waters backward flowed,
He raised and firmly set in place,
The type of Christ’s apostles twelve.

And Jericho had seen in her own ruin
Our hand’s control, when conquering Achan fell.
Renowned for bloodshed, proud of leveling walls,
He fell a victim to the enemy’s gold
When from the dust he gleaned the stuff accursed
And snatched the mournful plunder from the ruins.
His tribe did not avail, nor his descent
From Judah, founder of the race of Christ
And patriarch blessed in his noble scion.
Let those who imitate his race accept
A similar form of death and punishment.