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Our mute harps, untun'd, unstrung,
Up we hung
On green wil lows near bes'de us l
Where we, sitting all forlorn,
Thus in scorn
Our proud spoilers' 'gan deride us.
Come, sad captives! leav» your moans,
And your groans
Under Sion's ruins bury; .«
Tune your harps; and sing us lays
In the praise
Of ytur God, and let's be merry.,
Can, ah! can we leave cur moans,
And our groans
Under Sion's ruins bury?
Can we in this land sing lays
In the praise
Of our God, and here be merry?
No; dear Sion! if I yet
Thine affliction miserable, . ..
let my nimble joints become
To touch warbling harp unable.
V.lum* 11. H
Let my tongue lose singing skid,
Let it still
To my parched roof be g'ew'd,
If in either harp or voice
Till thy joys shall be renew'd.
Lord, curse Edom's trait'rous kind;
Bear in mind
In our ruins how they revell'd:
"Sack, kill, burn," they cry'd out still,
"Sack, burn, kill;
"Down with all, let all be leveled."
And thou, Babel! when the tide
Of thy pride,
Now a-fiowing, grows to turning,
Victor now shall then be thrall,
And shall fall
To as low an ebb of mourning.
x, Happy he who shall thee waste, As thou hast
Us, without all mercy, wasted;
Si Ef.f, sleept old Sun! thou canst not have repast
For these three days become a mineral.
Go from a body, at this sepulchre been,
1'O SIR ROBERT CARR."'
} presume ycu rather try what you can do in me, than zvbat I can do in verse: you know my uttermost when it .was best, and even then 1 did best when I bad least truth for my subjects, in this present case here is so mueb truth as it defeats all poe'.ry: call, therefore, this paper by zviat name you will, and fit be vet worthy cf him, nor vfy?«t nor cfme, smother it, and be that the sacrifce. " ff'youbaS commanded me to' have wilted on his body to Scotland, and preached there, I would have embraced the obligation tv':b mure alacrity; but 1 tbank you that you will tonnnand me thai which I was loth to do, for even that baib given a tincture of merit to the obedience of
Tour poor friend and servant in Christ Jesus,
TO THE SAINTS, AND TO MARpL'IS HAMILTON.
\vh. TnEit that soul, which Now comes up to you, Fill any former rank, or make a new l
Divine raiMS; 89
.Whether it take a name nam'd there before,
Fled in a minute, when the soul was gone,
For as it is his fame, now his soul's here,