The poetical works of James Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Jews occasionally hold a “Solemn Assembly” in the valley of Jehoshaphat, the ancient burial-place of Jerusalem. They are obliged to pay a heavy tax for the privilege of thus mourning, in stillness, at the sepulchres of their ancestors.

Part I.

In Babylon they sat and wept,
Down by the river's willowy side;
And when the breeze their harp-strings swept,
The strings of breaking hearts replied:
—A deeper sorrow now they hide;
No Cyrus comes to set them free
From ages of captivity.

All lands are Babylons to them,
Exiles and fugitives they roam;
What is their own Jerusalem?
—The place where they are least at home!
Yet hither from all climes they come;
And pay their gold, for leave to shed
Tears o'er the generations fled.

Around, the eternal mountains stand,
With Hinnom's darkling vale between;
Old Jordan wanders through the land,
Blue Carmel's sea-ward crest is seen,
And Lebanon yet sternly green
Throws, when the evening sun declines,
Its cedar shades, in lengthening lines.

But, ah! for ever vanish'd hence,
The temple of the living God,
Once Zion's glory and defence!
—Now mourn beneath the oppressor's rod,
The fields which faithful Abraham trod,
Where Isaac walk'd by twilight gleam,
And heaven came down on Jacob's dream.

For ever mingled with the soil,
Those armies of the Lord of Hosts,
That conquer'd Canaan, shared the spoil,
Quell'd Moab's pride, storm'd Midian's posts,
Spread paleness through Philistia's coasts,
And taught the foes, whose idols fell,
“There is a God in Israel.”

Now, David's tabernacle gone,
What mighty builder shall restore?
The golden throne of Solomon,
And ivory palace, are no more;
The Psalmist's song, the Preacher's lore,
Of all they wrought, alone remain
Unperish'd trophies of their reign.

Holy and beautiful of old,
Was Zion 'midst her princely bowers;
Besiegers trembled to behold
Bulwarks that set at nought their powers;
—Swept from the earth are all her towers;
Nor is there—so was she bereft—
One stone upon another left.

340

The very site whereon she stood,
In vain the eye, the foot, would trace;
Vengeance, for saints' and martyrs' blood,
Her walls did utterly deface;
Dungeons and dens usurp their place;
The cross and crescent shine afar,
But where is Jacob's natal star?

Part II.

Still inexterminable, still
Devoted to their mother-land,
Her offspring haunt the temple-hill,
Amidst her desecration stand,
And bite the lip, and clench the hand:
—To-day in that lone vale they weep,
Where patriarchs, kings, and prophets sleep.

Ha! what a spectacle of woe!
In groups they settle on the ground;
Men, women, children, gathering slow,
Sink down in reverie profound;
There is no voice, no speech, no sound,
But through the shuddering frame is thrown
The heart's unutterable groan.

Entranced they sit, nor seem to breathe,
Themselves like spectres from the dead;
Where, shrined in rocks above, beneath,
With clods along the valley spread,
Their ancestors, each on his bed,
Repose, till, at the judgment-day,
Death and the grave give up their prey.

Before their eyes, as in a glass,
—Their eyes that gaze on vacancy,—
Pageants of ancient grandeur pass,
But, “Ichabod” on all they see
Brands Israel's foul apostasy;
—Then last and worst, and crowning all
Their crimes and sufferings—Salem's fall.

Nor breeze, nor bird, nor palm-tree stirs,
Kedron's unwater'd brook is dumb;
But through the glen of sepulchres
Is heard the city's fervid hum,
Voices of dogs and children come:
Till loud and long the medzin's cry,
From Omar's mosque, peals round the sky.

Blight through their veins those accents send;
In agony of mute despair,
Their garments, as by stealth, they rend;
Unconsciously they pluck their hair;
—This is the Moslem's hour of prayer!
'Twas Judah's once,—but fane and priest,
Altar and sacrifice, have ceased.

And by the Gentiles, in their pride,
Jerusalem is trodden down:
—“How long?—for ever wilt Thou hide
Thy face, O Lord;—for ever frown?
Israel was once thy glorious crown,
In sight of all the nations worn;
Now from thy brow in anger torn.

“Zion, forsaken and forgot,
Hath felt thy stroke, and owns it just:
O God, our God! reject us not,
Her sons take pleasure in her dust:
How is the fine gold dimm'd with rust!
The city throned in gorgeous state,
How doth she now sit desolate!

“Where is thine oath to David sworn?
We by the winds like chaff are driven:
Yet unto us a Child is born,
Yet unto us a Son is given;
His throne is as the days of Heaven:
When shall He come to our release,
The mighty God, the Prince of Peace?”

Part III.

Thus blind with unbelief they cry,
But hope revisits not their glooms;
Seal'd are the words of prophecy,
Seal'd as the secrets of yon tombs,
Where all is dark,—though nature blooms,
Birds sing, streams murmur, heaven above
And earth around are life, light, love.

341

The sun goes down;—the mourning crowds,
Re-quicken'd, as from slumber start;
They met in silence here like clouds,
Like clouds in silence they depart:
Still clings the thought to every heart,
Still from their lips escapes in sighs,
—“By whom shall Jacob yet arise?”

By whom shall Jacob yet arise?
—Even by the Power that wakes the dead:
He whom your fathers did despise,
He who for you on Calvary bled,
On Zion shall his ensign spread;
—Captives! by all the world enslaved,
Know your Redeemer, and be saved!

1828.