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 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
124
SEDERUNT IN TERRA.
‘The Lord hath spread His net about her feet
And down hath hurled her wall in heaps around;’
Thus sang her Elders, as their breasts they beat,
Her virgins with their garlands on the ground.
And down hath hurled her wall in heaps around;’
Thus sang her Elders, as their breasts they beat,
Her virgins with their garlands on the ground.
‘The head of Sion to the dust is brought:
Her Kings are slain or scattered by the sword:
Her ancient Law is made a thing of nought:
Her Prophets find not Vision from the Lord.
Her Kings are slain or scattered by the sword:
Her ancient Law is made a thing of nought:
Her Prophets find not Vision from the Lord.
‘Because they showed thee not thy sin of old,
Servants this day have lordship o'er thy race:
From thine own wells thou draw'st thy drink for gold;
And Gentile standards mock thy Holy Place.
Servants this day have lordship o'er thy race:
From thine own wells thou draw'st thy drink for gold;
And Gentile standards mock thy Holy Place.
‘Thy little children made an idle quest—
“Where—where is bread?” As wounded men they lay
In every street. Upon their mothers' breast
At last they breathed their souls in death away.’
“Where—where is bread?” As wounded men they lay
In every street. Upon their mothers' breast
At last they breathed their souls in death away.’
The Priests made answer, ‘Christ on Olivet
Prayed to His Father. Pray thou well this day.
His chalice passed Him not. Therefore thy debt
Is cancelled. Watch with Him one hour, and pray.’
Prayed to His Father. Pray thou well this day.
His chalice passed Him not. Therefore thy debt
Is cancelled. Watch with Him one hour, and pray.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |