Jerusalem.
7
Proclaiming, as its awful thunders swell,
"The Lord no more in Israel deigns to dwell:"
No mortal foot th' affrighted threshold trod—
'Tis God's own voice, the parting step of God!
Yes, thou art now abandon'd to thy fate;
Vain is regret, repentance comes too late.
Already onward rush thy angry foes,
Already thy devoted walls enclose:
Death with pleas'd eye pursues their destin'd way,
And cheers them on, exulting, to their prey.
Darker, and darker still thy doom appears,
And Sorrow's face a sterner aspect wears.
In vain with equal hand doth justice deal
To each the stinted and unjoyous meal;
With looks despairing, as they ask for food,
Breaks one shrill shriek from all the multitude:
No more remains to fan life's feeble fires,
And Hope's last throb just flutters, and expires.
Ev'n the fond mother, seiz'd with madness wild,
While in her arms th' unconscious infant smil'd,
Drove to its heart the unrelenting steel,
And quench'd her fury on th' accursed meal.
Amid the tumult of the embattled field,
Death! thy stern terrors are but half reveal'd.
For, ev'n if Victory smile not, Glory's beam
Casts a clear light on life's last ebbing stream.
"The Lord no more in Israel deigns to dwell:"
No mortal foot th' affrighted threshold trod—
'Tis God's own voice, the parting step of God!
Yes, thou art now abandon'd to thy fate;
Vain is regret, repentance comes too late.
Already onward rush thy angry foes,
Already thy devoted walls enclose:
Death with pleas'd eye pursues their destin'd way,
And cheers them on, exulting, to their prey.
Darker, and darker still thy doom appears,
And Sorrow's face a sterner aspect wears.
In vain with equal hand doth justice deal
To each the stinted and unjoyous meal;
With looks despairing, as they ask for food,
Breaks one shrill shriek from all the multitude:
No more remains to fan life's feeble fires,
And Hope's last throb just flutters, and expires.
Ev'n the fond mother, seiz'd with madness wild,
While in her arms th' unconscious infant smil'd,
Drove to its heart the unrelenting steel,
And quench'd her fury on th' accursed meal.
Amid the tumult of the embattled field,
Death! thy stern terrors are but half reveal'd.
For, ev'n if Victory smile not, Glory's beam
Casts a clear light on life's last ebbing stream.
