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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
There yet remains
A ruined fragment huge of Salem's wall:
A little Hebrew remnant haunt that spot:
They kiss those fissured stones and in their shade
Sing their lamenting psalms. How oft hard by
Have I not heard our Roman exiles weep!
Antiphonal those dirges drear! Methought
Each on the other railed reproach: first, Rome,
‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem that slay'st
The Prophets:’ next, the Hebrews' fierce retort,
‘Art thou not in the self-same condemnation?
Thy House is left unto thee desolate.’
A ruined fragment huge of Salem's wall:
187
They kiss those fissured stones and in their shade
Sing their lamenting psalms. How oft hard by
Have I not heard our Roman exiles weep!
Antiphonal those dirges drear! Methought
Each on the other railed reproach: first, Rome,
‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem that slay'st
The Prophets:’ next, the Hebrews' fierce retort,
‘Art thou not in the self-same condemnation?
Thy House is left unto thee desolate.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |