FALLEN IS THY THRONE. Air.-MARTINI. I. FALLEN is thy Throne, oh Israel! Thy children weep in chains. Where are the dews that fed thee That fire from Heaven which led thee, II. Lord! thou didst love Jerusalem- Thy long-loved olive-tree ;—§ * "I have left mine heritage; I have given the dearly-beloved of my soul into the hands of her enemies."-Jeremiah xii. 7. + "Do not disgrace the throne of thy glory.”—Jer. xiv. 21. § "The LORD called thy name a green olive-tree; fair and of goodly fruit," etc.-Jer. xi. 16. And Salem's shrines were lighted III. Then sunk the star of Solyma- IV. "Go," said the LORD-" Ye Conquerors! "Shall hide but half her dead!" "For he shall be like the heath in the desert."-Jer. xvii. 6. "Take away her battlements; for they are not the LORD'S."-Jer. v. 10. § "Therefore, behold, the days come, saith the LORD, that WHO IS THE MAID? ST. JEROME'S LOVE.* Air.-BEETHOVEN. I. WHO is the Maid my spirit seeks, Through cold reproof and slander's blight? Has she Love's roses on her cheeks? Is her's an eye of this world's light? Its beam is kindled from above. II. I chose not her, my soul's elect, From those who seek their Maker's shrine it shall no more be called Tophet, nor the Valley of the Son of Hinnom, but the Valley of Slaughter; for they shall bury in Tophet till there be no place.”—Jer. vii. 32. * These lines were suggested by a passage in St. Jerome's reply to some calumnious remarks that had been circulated upon his intimacy with the matron Paula :-" Numquid me vestes sericæ, nitentes gemmæ, picta facies, aut auri rapuit ambitio? Nulla fuit alia Romæ matronarum, quæ meam possit edomare mentem, nisi lugens atque jejunans, fletu pene cæcata."-Epist. "Si tibi putem." In gems and garlands proudly deck'd, As if themselves were things divine! And she who comes in glittering vest III. Not so the faded form I prize And love, because its bloom is gone; Is all the grace her brow puts on. * Ου γαρ χευσοφορείν. την διηρησαν δει.-Chrysost. Homil. 8. in Epist. ad Tim. THE BIRD, LET LOOSE. Air.-BEETHOVEN. I. THE bird, let loose in eastern skies,* Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies But high she shoots through air and light, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, II. So grant me, GOD! from every care And stain of passion free, Aloft, through Virtue's purer air, My Soul, as home she springs;- * The carrier-pigeon, it is well known, flies at an elevated pitch, in order to surmount every obstacle between her and the place to which she is destined. |