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Poems on Several Occasions

With Anne Boleyn to King Henry VIII. An Epistle. By Mrs. Elizabeth Tollet. The Second Edition
  

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PSALM LXXIX.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

PSALM LXXIX.

Behold! O God! behold the cruel Train
Of stern Barbarians ravage thy Domain:
Behold thy Shrine profan'd, and when on high
The Tow'rs of Salem glitter'd on the Sky,
A mighty Waste, and Pile of Ruins lye.
Thy Servants lifeless Carcasses are giv'n
To ev'ry greedy Vulture of the Heav'n:
Thy holy Saints without Interment lay,
And ev'ry Beast of Earth devour'd the Prey.

204

As falling Rains increase the swelling Flood,
So Sion floated with her Children's Blood:
Nor dar'd a pitying Friend upon the Bier
Compose the Dead, or fun'ral Rites confer.
Stung with Reproaches of our Foes we mourn:
To bord'ring Realms a Mark of public Scorn.
Shall Length of Time, O Lord! thy Ire assuage?
Or shall for ever glow thy jealous Rage
Like wasteful Flames, and unextinguish'd burn?
Thy kindled Wrath on other Objects turn:
On Nations ignorant of thee to fall;
And Realms which never on thy Name did call.
For to their cruel Rage is Jacob made
A Prey; and his Abode in Ruins lay'd.
But O! remember not, from former Times
Our past Offences; but forgive our Crimes:
With soft Compassion, e're it is too late,
Behold, and raise us from our fall'n Estate.
O God of our Salvation! yet once more,
For thy Renown, our Liberty restore:
And cleanse our Guilt, as we thy Name implore.
With impious Taunt why should the Heathen cry
Where? where is now their boasted Deity?
May he, so known, conspicuous in their Sight,
Upon themselves his Servants Blood requite.
O! let the mournful Sighs before thee come
Of Captives, destin'd to receive their Doom:
And prove, by Pow'r in their Deliv'rance shown,
That Life and Death are in thy Hand alone.
But to our Neighbours, seven times multiply'd
Into their Bosom recompense their Pride:
Who thee with impious Scoff have dar'd deride.

205

So we thy People, of thy Pasture we
The chosen Sheep, shall render Thanks to thee;
Nor ever cease: To thee we mean to pay
The pious Hymn, while Ages roll away.