Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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| 3. | MELODY THIRD. Nahum, Chap. III.
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
MELODY THIRD. Nahum, Chap. III.
This mournful dirge the Prophet pour'd,
In numbers sad and slow,
When low the City lay devour'd
By the victorious foe:—
“Woe to the City! full of guile,
And riches, plunder'd nation's spoil;
No future day shall make thee smile;
Woe! bloody City, woe!
In numbers sad and slow,
When low the City lay devour'd
By the victorious foe:—
“Woe to the City! full of guile,
And riches, plunder'd nation's spoil;
No future day shall make thee smile;
Woe! bloody City, woe!
“The crackling whip, the rattling wheels,
And prancing horses sound;
The blood-stain'd chariot, rapid, reels
With dire and deadly bound.
In serried ranks the horsemen rear
The glancing sword, the glitt'ring spear;
And sumless slain, with aspect drear,
Bestrew the bloody ground.
And prancing horses sound;
The blood-stain'd chariot, rapid, reels
With dire and deadly bound.
In serried ranks the horsemen rear
The glancing sword, the glitt'ring spear;
And sumless slain, with aspect drear,
Bestrew the bloody ground.
“The comely harlot's witching lure,
(In incantations skill'd,)
And countless whoredoms base, impure,
Thy deadly cup have fill'd:
For God shall bring thee to disgrace,
And show thy crimes upon thy face:
He'll quite ecscind thee from thy place;
Thy beauty shall be spill'd.
(In incantations skill'd,)
And countless whoredoms base, impure,
Thy deadly cup have fill'd:
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And show thy crimes upon thy face:
He'll quite ecscind thee from thy place;
Thy beauty shall be spill'd.
“And all who knew thee once shall flee
Far from thy ruins wild,
Wailing that none can comfort thee,
Of mirth and beauty spoil'd:
For now, like mighty sea-lined No,
Round which prolific streams did flow,
Thou'rt levell'd by the northern foe,
Where tow'ring fanes once smiled.
Far from thy ruins wild,
Wailing that none can comfort thee,
Of mirth and beauty spoil'd:
For now, like mighty sea-lined No,
Round which prolific streams did flow,
Thou'rt levell'd by the northern foe,
Where tow'ring fanes once smiled.
“Thy children, like the drunkard weak,
Will call for strength in vain,
Or for a place of safety seek,
While red fate guides the rein.
As drop-ripe fruit falls from the trees
When shaken by the slightest breeze,
So will the foe thy ramparts seize,
And level with the plain.
Will call for strength in vain,
Or for a place of safety seek,
While red fate guides the rein.
As drop-ripe fruit falls from the trees
When shaken by the slightest breeze,
So will the foe thy ramparts seize,
And level with the plain.
In vain draw waters for the storm,
Or strongholds fortify;
In vain like hills the bastion form,
High heaving to the sky;
For open to the en'my's hand
Are laid the portals of the land;
Their power thy warriors can't withstand;
Flames all thy bars destroy.
Or strongholds fortify;
In vain like hills the bastion form,
High heaving to the sky;
For open to the en'my's hand
Are laid the portals of the land;
Their power thy warriors can't withstand;
Flames all thy bars destroy.
Unnumber'd as the heavenly hosts
Thy gilded princes shone;
Like locusts swarming round the coasts
Thy merchants flow'd anon;
In countless troops thy warriors spread
Their serried ranks, the nations' dread;
But, quite ennerved, they basely fled,
And all thy grandeur's gone.
Thy gilded princes shone;
Like locusts swarming round the coasts
Thy merchants flow'd anon;
In countless troops thy warriors spread
Their serried ranks, the nations' dread;
But, quite ennerved, they basely fled,
And all thy grandeur's gone.
“Assyria's king, now lift thine eyes,
And on thy wardens call;
Alas! no subject hears thy cries,
Thy nobles slumber all!
At this thy fate all lands wiil sing,
And triumph's shouts around thee ring;
In every breast will rapture spring,
Relieved now from thy thrall.”
And on thy wardens call;
Alas! no subject hears thy cries,
Thy nobles slumber all!
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And triumph's shouts around thee ring;
In every breast will rapture spring,
Relieved now from thy thrall.”
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |