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3. She's gone, who shar'd
diadem ; She sunk, with her my joys entombing; I swept that flow'r 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 unconsum'd are still consuming !
ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION
OF JERUSALEM BY TITUS.
1. From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome I beheld thee, Oh Sion! when render'd 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.
2. 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-fetter'd bands that made vengeance in
3. On many an eve, the high spot whence I gaz'd Had reflected the last beam of day as it blaz’d; While I stood on the height, and beheld the decline of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy
BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT
DOWN AND WEPT.
Of Babel, and thought of the day
Made Salem's high places bis prey;
Were scatter'd all weeping away:
Which rolld on in freedom below,
That triumph the stranger shall know!
Ere it string our high harp for the foe!
3. On the willow that harp is suspended,
Oh Salem; its sound should be free;
But left me that token of thee:
With the voice of the spoiler by me!
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
1. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
2. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.
3. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass’d; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly'and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew
4. And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolld not the breath of his pride: And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray on the rock-beating surf.