Classic Poem

As on Euphrates' shady banks we lay,
And there, O Sion, to thy ashes pay
Our funeral tears; our silent harps, unstrung,
And unregarded on the willows hung.
Lo, they who had thy desolation wrought,
And captiv'd Judah unto Babel brought,
Deride the tears which from our sorrows spring,
And say in scorn, Asong of Sion sing.
Shall we profane our harps at their command,
Or holy hymns sing in a foreign land?
O Solyma! thou that art now become
A heap of stones, and to thyself a tomb!
When I forget thee, my dear mother, let
My fingers their melodious skill forget:
When I a joy disjoin'd from thine receive,
Then may my tongue unto my palate cleave.
Remember Edom, Lord, their cruel pride,
Who in the sack of wretched Salem cried: —
Down with their buildings, raze them to the ground,
Nor let one stone be on another found.
Thou Babylon, whose tow'rs now touch the sky,
That shortly shalt as low in ruins lie,
O happy! O thrice happy they who shall
With equal cruelty revenge our fall!
That dash thy children's brains against the stones,
And without pity hear their dying groans.