Classic Poem

THE rage of Babylon is roused,
The King puts forth his strength;
And Judah bends the bow
And points her arrows for the coming war.

Her walls are firm, her gates are strong,
Her youth gird on the sword;
High are her chiefs in hope,
For soon will Egypt send the promised aid.

But who is he whose voice of woe
Is heard amid the streets?
Whose ominous voice proclaims
Her strength, and arms, and promised succors vain?

His meagre cheek is pale and sunk,
Wild is his hollow eye,
Yet awful is its glance;
And who could bear the anger of his frown?

Prophet of G OD ! in vain thy lips
Proclaim the woe to come;
In vain thy warning voice
Summons her rulers timely to repent!

The Ethiop changes not his skin.
Impious and reckless still
The rulers spurn thy voice,
And now the measure of their crimes is full.

For now around Jerusalem
The countless foes appear;
Far as the eye can reach
Spreads the wide horror of the circling siege.

Why is the warrior's cheek so pale?
Why droops the gallant youth
Who late in pride of heart
Sharpen'd his javelin for the welcome war?

'Tis not for terror that his eye
Swells with the struggling woe;
Oh! he could bear his ills,
Or rush to death, and in the grave have peace.

His parents do not ask for food,
But they are weak with want;
His wife has given her babes
Her wretched pittance,—she makes no complaint.

The consummating hour is come!
Alas for Solyma!
How is she desolate,—
She that was great among the nations, fallen!

And thou—thou miserable King—
Where is thy trusted flock,
Thy flock so beautiful,
Thy Father's throne, the temple of thy God?

Repentance brings not back the past;
It will not call again
Thy murder'd sons to life,
Nor vision to those eyeless sockets more.

Thou wretched, childless, blind, old man,
Heavy thy punishment;
Dreadful thy present woes,
Alas, more dreadful thy remember'd guilt!