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II.

And is she dead -and did they dare

Obey my phrensy's jealous raving ? My wrath but doomd my own despair :

The sword that smote her 's o'er me waving.But thou art cold, my murdered love!

And this dark heart is vainly craving For her who soars alone above,

And leaves my soul unworthy saving.

II.

She's gone,

who shared my diadem; She sunk, with her my joys entombing ; I swept that flower from Judah’s stem

Whose leaves for me alone were blooming. And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell,

This bosom's desolation dooming; And I have earn'd those tortures well,

Which unconsumed are still consuming !

ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF

JERUSALEM BY TITUS.

I.

From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome
I beheld thee, Oh Sion! when rendered to Rome:
'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall
Flash'd back on the last glance I gave to thy wall.

II.

I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my home,
And forgot for a moment my bondage to come;
I beheld but the death-fire that fed on thy fane,
And the fast-fettered hands that made vengeance in vain.

III. On

many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed Had reflected the last beam of day as it blazed ; While I stood on the height, and beheld the decliue Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy shrine.

IV.

And now on that mountain I stood on that day,
But I mark'd not the twilight beam melting away;
Oh! would that the lightning had glared in its stead,
And the thunderbolt burst on the conqueror's head!

V.
But the Gods of the Pagan shall never profane
The shrine where Jehovah disdain'd not to reign ;
And scattered and scorn'd as thy people may be,
Our worship, oh Father! is only for thee.

BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT

DOWN AND WEPT.

I.

Wersate down and wept by the waters

Of Babel, and thought of the day
When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters,

Made Salem's high places his prey ;
And ye, oh her desolate daughters !

Were scattered all weeping away.

II. While sadly we gazed on the river

Which rollid on in freedom below, They demanded the song; but, oh never

That triumph the stranger shall know! May this right hand be withered for ever,

Ere it string our high harp for the foe!

III.

On the willow that harp is suspended,

Oh Salem ! its sound should be free; And the hour when thy glories were ended

But left me that token of thee : And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended

With the voice of the spoiler by me!

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