 | Poems (1717) |  |
133
THE PRAYER of JEREMY PARAPHRAS'D.
Prophetically representing the Passionate Grief of the Jewish People, for the Loss of their Town and Sanctuary.
I.
Stand, Sun of Justice! Sovereign God Most High!In Libra fix thy Bench of Equity,
And weigh our Case—
Look down on Earth, nay look as low again,
As we're inferior to the rest of Men;
We Wretched, once, like thy Archangels, Bright,
Are cast down headlong with diminish'd Light.
So Meteors fall, and as they downwards fly,
Leave a long Train of less'ning Light, and die.
134
II.
Then let that other smoother Face of thine,The Sun of Justice, take its Turn and shine.
If not alone, at least to mix Allays,
And streak thy Justice with alternate Rays,
To see and pity our Distress; for Oh!
As thou'rt exalted, our Condition's low.
III.
Houses, Estates, our Temple and our Town,Which God and Birthright long had made our own,
To barb'rous Nations now are fall'n a Prey,
And we from all we love, are torn away.
Thus, early Orphans, whilst our Fathers live,
We know no Comfort, they no Comfort give:
Our Mothers are but Widows under Chains
Of Wedlock, and of all their Nuptial Gains,
None of the Mother but the Pangs remains.
135
And fainting, wander for our needful Bread,
Where Wolves and Tygers round in Ambush lie,
And Hosts with naked Swords stand threatning by.
But keener Hunger, more a Beast of Prey,
More sharp than these, more ravenous than they,
Thro' Swords, and Wolves, and Tygers, breaks our bitter Way.
IV.
The Fowls, and Beasts, and ev'ry Sylvan Kind,Down to the meanest Insects, Heav'n design'd
To be the Slaves of Man, were always free
Of Waters, Woods, and common Air; but we,
We Slaves, and Beasts, and more than Insects vile,
That half-born wanton on the Banks of Nile,
Are glad to buy the Leavings they can spare
Of Waters, Woods, and the more common Air.
V.
With Loads of Chains our Foes pursue their Stroke,And lug our aking Necks beneath their Yoke:
136
But endless Drudging drags us on to Death.
Our Cries ascend, and like a Trumpet blow,
All Egypt and Assyria hear our Woe:
Here, Nights we labour, there, whole Days we sweat,
And barely earn the heartless Bread we eat.
VI.
Our old Fore-Fathers sinn'd, and are no more,They pawn'd their Children to defray their Score.
O happy they! by Death from Suffering freed,
But all our Fathers Scourges lash their Seed.
Vengeance, at which great Zion's Entrails shakes,
Shoots thro' the inmost of the Soul, and rakes,
Where Pride lurks deepest, there we feel our Pain,
Our Slaves are Masters, and our Menials reign.
Whilst we unrescu'd send our Cries around,
To seek Relief, but no Relief is found.
137
VII.
Look on our Cheeks, and in each Furrow trace,A Storm of Famine driving on our Face:
The scorching Tempest lets its Fury go,
And pours upon us, in a Burst of Woe.
The Signs of conscious Guilt our Brows impart,
Black as our Sin, and harden'd as our Heart.
VIII.
From Zion's Mount the humble Matrons cry,With mournful Eccho's, Juda's Maids reply,
Our Great ones fall, beneath their sweeping Hand,
E'en venerable Age cannot withstand
Their impious Scoffs; our Youth, in bloomy Prime
Compell'd, submit to their undecent Crime,
And Children whelm'd with Labour, fall before their Time.
Thus Prince and People, Infancy and Age,
Promiscuous Objects of an impious Rage,
138
With horrid Scenes of Universal Woe.
IX.
Old Men no more in Zion's Council sit,Nor Young in Consorts of her Musick meet;
Such foolish Change fond Profligates devise;
The Old turn Singers, and the Young advise;
Perverted Order to Confusion runs,
And all our dwindling Musick ends in Groans;
Zion, thy ancient Glories are decay'd,
Thy Lawrels wither, and thy Garlands fade;
Oh Sin! 'tis thou hast this Destruction made.
X.
'Tis Zion then, 'tis Zion we deplore,For her we grieve, for Zion is no more;
Our Eyes condole in Tears, and jointly smart
With all the Anguish of an aking Heart:
139
All Nations Envy, and the World's Delight,
Now grown a Desart, where the Foxes range,
And howling Wolves lament the dismal Change.
XI.
But thou, Unshaken God, shalt ever be!Thy Throne stands fast upon Eternity:
Then must we thus by Thee forsaken lie,
Or lost for ever, in Oblivion die.
Turn but to us, O Lord, we'll mend our Ways,
Oh! once restore the Joys of ancient Days;
Ev'n tho' we seem the Outcasts of thy Care,
Refuse of Death, and Gleanings of the War,
Resume the Father, and let Sinners know,
Thy Mercy's greater than thy People's Woe.
| Poems (1717) | |