Page:Poems Rossetti.djvu/266

BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON.

B.C. 570

HERE. where I dwell, I waste to skin and bone;
 The curse is come upon me, and I waste
 In penal torment powerless to atone.
The curse is come on me, which makes no haste
 And doth not tarty, crushing both the proud
 Hard man and him the sinner double-faced.
Look not upon me, for my soul is bowed
 Within me, as my body in this mire;
 My soul crawls dumb-struck, sore bestead and cowed.
As Sodom and Gomorrah scourged by fire,
 As Jericho before God's trumpet-peal,
 So we the elect ones perish in His ire.
Vainly we gird on sackcloth, vainly kneel
 With famished faces toward Jerusalem:
 His heart is shut against us not to feel,
His ears against our cry He shutteth them,
 His hand He shorteneth that He will not save,
 His law is loud against us to condemn:
And we, as unclean bodies in the grave
 Inheriting corruption and the dark.
 Are outcast from His presence which we crave.
Our Mercy hath departed from His Ark,
 Our Glory hath departed from His rest,
 Our Shield hath left us naked as a mark
Unto all pitiless eyes made manifest.