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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 hands that made vengeance in
3. 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 decline Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy 4. 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 !
BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT
DOWN AND WEPT.
Of Babel, and thought of the day
Made Salem's high places his prey;
Were scatter'd all weeping away.
2. 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 wither'd for ever,
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.
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.
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.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
5. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
6. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!