XIX.—BABYLON DESTROYED; OR, THE 137TH PSALM TRANSLATED.
I
When by the flowing brooks we sat,
The brooks of Babylon the proud;
We thought on Zion's mournful state,
And wept her woes, and wail'd aloud.
II
Thoughtless of every cheerful air
(For grief had all our harps unstrung)
Our harps, neglected in despair,
And silent, on the willows hung.
III
Our foes, who made our land their spoil,
Our barbarous lords, with haughty tongues,
Bid us forget our groans awhile,
And give a taste of Zion's songs.
IV
How shall we sing in heathen lands
Our holy songs to ears profane?
Lord, shall our lips at their commands
Pronounce thy dreadful name in vain?
V
Forbid it heaven! O vile abuse!
Zion in dust forbids it too:
Shall hymns inspired for sacred use
Be sung to please a scoffing crew?
VI
O let my tongue grow dry, and cleave
Fast to my mouth in silence still;
Let some avenging pow'r bereave
My fingers of their tuneful skill.
VII
If I thy sacred rites profane,
O Salem, or thy dust despise;
If I indulge one cheerful strain,
Till I shall see thy tow'rs arise.
VIII
'Twas Edom bid the conqu'ring foe,
‘Down with the tow'rs, and rase thy walls:’
Requite her, Lord: But, Babel, know,
Thy guilt for fiercer vengeance calls.
IX
As thou hast spared nor sex nor age,
Deaf to our infants' dying groans,
May some bless'd hand, inspir'd with rage,
Dash thy young babes, and tinge the stones.
