Classic Poem

CHAP . I.

How like a widow, ah! how desolate
This city sits, thrown from the pride of state!
How is this potent queen, who laws to all
The neighbouring nations gave, become a thrall!
Who nightly tears from her salt fountains sheds,
Which fall upon her cheeks in liquid beads.
Of all her lovers none regard her woes,
And her perfidious friends increase her foes.
Judah in exile wanders; ah! subdu'd
By vast afflictions and base servitude.
Among the barbarous heathen finds no rest;
At home, abroad, on ev'ry side opprest.
Ah! see how Sion mourns! her gates, and ways,
Lie unfrequented on her solemn days.
Her virgins weep, her priests lament her fall,
And all her sustenance converts to gall.
A wretched vassal to her savage foes:
Her num'rous sins the authors of these woes.
Behold, how they, who by her losses thrive,
Into captivity her children drive!
O Sion's daughter, all thy beauty's lost!
Thy chased princes are like harts imbost,
Which find no water, and enfeebled fly
Before the eager hunters' dreadful cry.
Jerusalem, in these her miseries,
And days of mourning, sets before her eyes
Those vanish'd pleasures which she once enjoy'd,
Her people now by hostile swords destroy'd;
Whil'st none afford compassion to her woes,
Her sabbaths scorn'd by her insulting foes.
Jerusalem hath sinn'd, is now remov'd
For her uncleanness: those who lately lov'd,
As much despise; her nakedness descried:
Who sighs for shame, and turns her face aside.
Pollution stains her skirts; yet her last end
Remember'd not: for this without a friend
Stupendously she fell. Great God! behold
My sorrows, since the foe is grown so bold!
Hath ravish'd all wherein she took delight,
His insolence contending with his might!
Ah! she hath seen th' uncircumcis'd profane
Thy temple, whose approach Thy laws restrain.
Her people sighing seek for bread; who give
Their wealth for food, that their faint souls may live.
Consider, Lord! O look on the forlorn!
Who am to all the world a gen'ral scorn.
You passengers, though this concern not you,
Here fix your steps, and my strange suff'rings view.
Was ever sorrow like my sorrow known,
Which God hath on me in His fury thrown?
He from the breaking clouds His flames hath cast,
Which in my bones the boiling marrow waste;
Hath set snares for my feet, thrown to the ground,
Left desolate and fainting with my wound,
Who of my sins hath made a yoke, to check
My insolence, and cast it on my neck.
My strength hath broken, to my enemies
Subdu'd my pow'rs, now ah! too weak to rise.
He, in the midst of me, hath trodden down
My mighty men, and those of most renown.
His troops on my strong youth like torrents rush'd,
As in a wine-press Judah's daughter crush'd.
For this I weep! my eye, my galled eye,
Dissolves in streams; for he who should apply
Balm to my wounds, far, O far off is fled!
My children desolate, their foe their head.
Her hands sad Sion rais'd, no comfort found;
Jehovah charg'd her foes to gird her round.
Jerusalem, O thou of late belov'd,
Now like a menstruous woman art remov'd.
The Lord is just; 'tis I that have rebell'd,
And by my wild revolt His grace expell'd.
Hear, and behold my woes! my orphans torn
From my forc'd arms, and into exile borne.
I to my boasting lovers call'd for aid,
But they their vows infring'd, my trust betray'd.
My priests and princes, while they seek for bread
To feed their hungry souls, augment the dead.
Lord, look on me! my heart rolls in my breast,
My bowels toil like seas with storms oppress'd.
I have provok'd Thy vengeance with my sin:
Without the sword destroys, and dearth within.
My sighs no pity move: my cruel foes
Enjoy Thy wrath, and glory in my woes.
Yet that presaged time will come, when they
Shall equal sorrows to Thy justice pay.
O set their impious deeds before Thine eyes,
And press them with my weighty miseries
(The birth of sin) which break into complaint;
My groans are numberless, my spirits faint.