The Poetical Works of Anna Seward With Extracts from her Literary Correspondence. Edited by Walter Scott ... In Three Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
 | III. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Poetical Works of Anna Seward |  |
55
137th PSALM PARAPHRASED.
By clear Euphrates' palmy tide
Near Babylon's high towers,
Remembering Sion, oft we sigh'd
And wept her vanquish'd powers.
Near Babylon's high towers,
Remembering Sion, oft we sigh'd
And wept her vanquish'd powers.
Our silent harps on trees we hung
That wav'd along its shores;
Then our proud foes required the song
Of Sion's hallow'd bowers.
That wav'd along its shores;
Then our proud foes required the song
Of Sion's hallow'd bowers.
How shall we sing the sacred strains,
O Solyma! that flow'd,
And taught thy echoing rocks and plains
The mercies of our God!
O Solyma! that flow'd,
And taught thy echoing rocks and plains
The mercies of our God!
If thee, Jerusalem, my heart
E'er ceases to regret,
Let my right hand its tuneful art,
And all its skill forget!
E'er ceases to regret,
Let my right hand its tuneful art,
And all its skill forget!
56
If I forget thee, let my tongue,
Parch'd to my palate cleave!
Yes, if to thee, amid the song,
My sighs forbear to heave.
Parch'd to my palate cleave!
Yes, if to thee, amid the song,
My sighs forbear to heave.
Remember Edom's sons, O Lord!
In Sion's fatal day,
Howling aloud their fell award
Amid th' unequal fray!
In Sion's fatal day,
Howling aloud their fell award
Amid th' unequal fray!
When red with Idumean gore
Fair Olivet was found,
These fanes, they cried, shall rise no more,
Down with them to the ground!
Fair Olivet was found,
These fanes, they cried, shall rise no more,
Down with them to the ground!
Daughter of Babylon, thy doom,
From God's avenging hand,
In retribution dread shall come,
And desolate the land.
From God's avenging hand,
In retribution dread shall come,
And desolate the land.
And blest the man, whom Heav'n ordains
To 'whelm thy boasted towers,
And dash thy infants on the plains,
As thou did'st slaughter ours!
To 'whelm thy boasted towers,
And dash thy infants on the plains,
As thou did'st slaughter ours!
| The Poetical Works of Anna Seward | |