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The cedars wave on Lebanon,
More blest each palm that shades those plains
Than Israel's scatter'd race;
In solitary grace:
But we must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die;
Our own may never lie:
OH! WEEP FOR THOSE.
OA! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;
Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell;
And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?
Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,
ON JORDAN'S BANKS.
On Jordan's banks the Arabs' camels stray,
Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear!
SINCE our Country, our God-Oh, my Sire!
And the voice of my mourning is o'er,
8. And of this, oh, my Father! be sureThat the blood of thy child is as pure As the blessing I beg ere it flow, And the last thought that soothes me below.
Though the virgins of Salem lament,
OH! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S
OR! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves the earliest of the year;
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And lingering pause and lightly tread ;
Away; we know that tears are vain,
That death nor heeds nor hears distress :
Or make one mourner weep the less ?
MY SOUL IS DARK.
My soul is dark-Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again ; If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain :