The history of The Old Testament In verse With One Hundred and Eighty sculptures: In Two Volumes. Vol. I. From the Creation to the Revolt of the Ten Tribes from the House of David. Vol. II. From that Revolt to the End of the Prophets. Written by Samuel Wesley ... The Cuts done by J. Sturt |
 | I, II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
| LXV. |
| LXVI. |
| LXVII. |
| LXVIII. |
| LXIX. |
| LXX. |
| LXXI. |
| LXXIII. |
| LXXIV. |
| LXXV. |
| LXXVI. |
| LXXVII. |
| LXXVIII. |
| LXXIX. |
| LXXX. |
| LXXXI. |
| LXXXII. |
| LXXXIII. |
| LXXXIV. |
| LXXXV. |
| LXXXVI. |
| LXXXVII. |
| LXXXVIII. |
| LXXXIX. |
| XC. |
| XCI. |
| XCII. |
| XCIII. |
| XCIV. |
| XCV. |
| XCVI. |
| XCVII. |
| XCVIII. |
| XCIX. |
| C. |
| CI. |
| CII. |
| CIII. |
| CIV. |
| CV. |
| CVI. |
| CVII. |
| CVIII. |
| CIX. |
| CX. |
| CXI. |
| CXII. |
| CXIII. |
| CXIV. |
| CXV. |
| CXVI. |
| CXVII. |
| CXVIII. |
| CXIX. |
| CXX. |
| CXXI. |
| CXXII. |
| CXXIII. |
| CXXIV. |
| CXXV. |
| CXXVI. |
| CXXVII. |
| CXXVIII. |
| CXXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
| CXXXII. |
| CXXXIII. |
| CXXXIV. |
| CXXXV. |
| CXXXVI. |
| CXXXVII. |
| CXXXVIII. |
| CXXXIX. |
| CXL. |
| CXLI. |
| CXLII. |
| CXLIII. |
| CXLIV. |
| CXLV. |
| CXLVI. |
| CXLVII. |
| CXLVIII. |
| CXLIX. |
| CL. |
| CLI. |
| CLII. |
| CLIII. |
| CLIV. |
| CLV. |
| CLVI. |
| CLVII. |
| CLVIII. |
| CLIX. |
| CLX. |
| CLXI. |
| CLXII. |
| CLXIII. |
| CLXIV. |
| CLXV. |
| CLXVI. |
| CLXVII. |
| CLXVIII. |
| CLXIX. |
| CLXX. |
| CLXXI. |
| CLXXII. |
| CLXXIII. |
| CLXXIV. |
| CLXXV. |
| CLXXVI. |
| CLXXVII. |
| CLXXVIII. |
| CLXXIX. |
| CLXXX. |
| CLXXXI. |
| CLXXXII. |
| CLXXXIII. |
| CLXXXIV. |
| CLXXXV. |
| CLXXXVI. |
| CLXXXVII. |
| CLXXXVIII. |
| CXC. |
| CXCI. |
| CXCII. |
| CXCIII. |
| CXCIV. |
| CXCV. |
| CXCVI. |
| CXCVII. |
| CXCVIII. |
| CXCIX. |
| CC. |
| CCI. |
| CCII. |
| CCIII. |
| CCIV. |
| CCV. |
| CCVI. |
| CCVII. |
| CCVIII. |
| CCIX. |
| CCX. |
| CCXI. |
| CCXII. |
| CCXIII. |
| CCXIV. |
| CCXV. |
| CCXVI. |
| CCXVII. |
| CCXVIII. |
| CCXIX. |
| CCXX. |
| CCXXI. |
| CCXXII. |
| CCXXIII. |
| CCXXIV. |
| CCXXV. |
| CCXXVI. |
| CCXXVII. |
| CCXXVIII. |
| CCXXIX. |
| CCXXX. |
| CCXXXI. |
| CCXXXII. |
| CCXXXIII. |
| CCXXXIV. |
| CCXXXV. |
| CCXXXVI. |
| CCXXXVII. |
| CCXXXVIII. |
| CCXXXIX. |
| CCXL. |
| CCXLI. | CCXLI. The LAMENTATIONS.
|
| CCXLII. |
| CCXLIII. |
| CCXLIV. |
| CCXLV. |
| CCXLVI. |
| CCXLVII. |
| CCXLVIII. |
| CCXLIX. |
| CCL. |
| CCLI. |
| CCLII. |
| CCLIII. |
| CCLIV. |
| CCLV. |
| CCLVI. |
| CCLVII. |
| CCLVIII. |
| CCLIX. |
| CCLX. |
| CCLXI. |
| CCLXII. |
| CCLXIII. |
| CCLXIV. |
| CCLXV. |
| CCLXVI. |
| CCLXVII. |
 | The history of The Old Testament In verse |  |
581
CCXLI. The LAMENTATIONS.
The
Prophet rescu'd from his Countrey's Fate,
Amidst its lamentable Ruins sate;
And thus did in soft Elegies deplore
Salem that lately was, but Salem now no more.
Amidst its lamentable Ruins sate;
And thus did in soft Elegies deplore
Salem that lately was, but Salem now no more.
Where is, alas! thy crowd of Children fled?
Where is the Crown that late adorn'd thy Head?
Sion, a Queen thro' Nations wide renown'd!
But now her Glory's level'd with the Ground.
A solitary Widow she appears,
Her beautious Cheeks are all deform'd with Tears:
Deserted by her Lovers and her Friends,
There's none that now addresses, none pretends:
Cold and indifferent all the Traitors grow,
Nor only her forsake, but joyn her Foe.
Where is the Crown that late adorn'd thy Head?
Sion, a Queen thro' Nations wide renown'd!
But now her Glory's level'd with the Ground.
A solitary Widow she appears,
Her beautious Cheeks are all deform'd with Tears:
Deserted by her Lovers and her Friends,
There's none that now addresses, none pretends:
Cold and indifferent all the Traitors grow,
Nor only her forsake, but joyn her Foe.
The Ways of Sion mourn, mourn every Gate,
Her Feasts forgot, her Houses desolate,
Her Priests lament, and bitter is her Fate:
Her Virgins sigh, themselves and her deplore,
Their Princes slain, their Beauty is no more.
Her Feasts forgot, her Houses desolate,
Her Priests lament, and bitter is her Fate:
Her Virgins sigh, themselves and her deplore,
Their Princes slain, their Beauty is no more.
O Salem! once how bless'd, tho' now forlorn!
How just are all the Woes thy Sons have born!
How grievous was thy Sin! how base! how vile!
What Leudness did thy Robes and thee defile!
Nor would'st thou, tho' so often warn'd, amend,
Nor once reflect, nor once regard thy End.
How wond'rous was thy Fall! how wide thy Wound!
No Balm for that, for this no Comfort found.
To God at length she flies, (Ah, why so late!)
And thus complains, and thus she mourns her Fate.
How just are all the Woes thy Sons have born!
582
What Leudness did thy Robes and thee defile!
Nor would'st thou, tho' so often warn'd, amend,
Nor once reflect, nor once regard thy End.
How wond'rous was thy Fall! how wide thy Wound!
No Balm for that, for this no Comfort found.
To God at length she flies, (Ah, why so late!)
And thus complains, and thus she mourns her Fate.
O Lord! to whom my Sins and Sorrows known!
Regard with Pity from thy radiant Throne!
Behold the Foe! behold his impious Pride,
And Rage, and Thirst of Blood, unsatisfy'd!
And shall he thus thy Holy Place defile?
Shall Heathen Lands thy once-lov'd Temple spoil?
Behold how mean, how base I now am grown,
Secure thy People's Honour and thy own!
Regard with Pity from thy radiant Throne!
Behold the Foe! behold his impious Pride,
And Rage, and Thirst of Blood, unsatisfy'd!
And shall he thus thy Holy Place defile?
Shall Heathen Lands thy once-lov'd Temple spoil?
Behold how mean, how base I now am grown,
Secure thy People's Honour and thy own!
And now to Earth the Fair afflicted turns,
And thus agen in moving Accents mourns.
And thus agen in moving Accents mourns.
Ye who pass by and see me here distress'd!
Has soft Compassion never touch'd your Breast?
Was ever Grief like mine? Was ever known
Who by so vast a Ruin overthrown;
When angry Heav'n did all its Vengeance shed,
And pour unmix'd its Vials o're my Head?
Full at my Breast its forky Lightning play'd,
Lick'd up my Blood and did my Bones invade.
The Snares of Death are pitch'd around my Feet,
Where e're I turn, my Sins and Plagues I meet.
The Yoke of my Transgression's firmly bound,
Whose Iron-wreaths my weary Neck surround.
I sink, I fall, in vain I strive to rise,
O'rewhelm'd by my unequal Enemies.
—'Tis God himself my fainting Soul has crush'd,
And laid my Strength and Beauty in the Dust:
Against my Walls is the Destroyer sent,
My Walls and Ramparts languish and lament.
—But more—the sacred Law I once cou'd boast
From God's own Hand, is lost, for ever lost.
His own Anointed he does now despise,
In its vast Ruins sunk his glorious Temple lies.
Has soft Compassion never touch'd your Breast?
Was ever Grief like mine? Was ever known
Who by so vast a Ruin overthrown;
When angry Heav'n did all its Vengeance shed,
And pour unmix'd its Vials o're my Head?
Full at my Breast its forky Lightning play'd,
Lick'd up my Blood and did my Bones invade.
583
Where e're I turn, my Sins and Plagues I meet.
The Yoke of my Transgression's firmly bound,
Whose Iron-wreaths my weary Neck surround.
I sink, I fall, in vain I strive to rise,
O'rewhelm'd by my unequal Enemies.
—'Tis God himself my fainting Soul has crush'd,
And laid my Strength and Beauty in the Dust:
Against my Walls is the Destroyer sent,
My Walls and Ramparts languish and lament.
584
From God's own Hand, is lost, for ever lost.
His own Anointed he does now despise,
In its vast Ruins sunk his glorious Temple lies.
| The history of The Old Testament In verse | |