The Blasted Heath

John Milton

Paradise Lost, Book I

Yet faithful how they stood,
Their glory withered; as, when Heaven’s fire
Hath scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines,
With singéd top their stately growth, though bare,
Stands on the blasted heath.

William Shakespeare

Macbeth, Act I, Scene iii

Say from whence
You owe this strange intelligence? Or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop our way.