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7
The Maid of Judah.
No more shall the children of Judah sing
The lay of a happier time;
Or strike the harp with the golden string
Neath the sun of an eastern clime;
Or strike the harp with the golden string,
Neath the sun of an eastern clime.
The lay of a happier time;
Or strike the harp with the golden string
Neath the sun of an eastern clime;
Or strike the harp with the golden string,
Neath the sun of an eastern clime.
This, this was the lay of a Jewish maid,
Though not in her father's bowers.
So sweetly she sang as in sadness she stray'd,
Oer the ruins of Babylon's towers
No more shall the children of Judah &c.
Though not in her father's bowers.
So sweetly she sang as in sadness she stray'd,
Oer the ruins of Babylon's towers
No more shall the children of Judah &c.
O where are the sons of mine ancient race,
Who were born the jav'lin to bear!
How fall'n is the city whose wreck I now trace,
That once was so lovely and fair!
The green grass grows on that fertile spot,
Where once grew sweetest flowers;
Land of my kindred thou'lt ne'er be forgot,
While a ruin remains of thy towers!
Land of my kindred thou'lt ne'er be forgot,
While a ruin remains of thy towers!
No more shall the children of Judah &c.
Who were born the jav'lin to bear!
How fall'n is the city whose wreck I now trace,
That once was so lovely and fair!
The green grass grows on that fertile spot,
Where once grew sweetest flowers;
Land of my kindred thou'lt ne'er be forgot,
While a ruin remains of thy towers!
Land of my kindred thou'lt ne'er be forgot,
While a ruin remains of thy towers!
No more shall the children of Judah &c.
My Wife's Dead.
My wife's dead—There let her lie—
She's at rest—and so am I.
She's at rest—and so am I.
