Classic Poem

Psal — 137. Buchan[ani] Paraphra[sis]

Whilst far from home with sadnes overprest
By Babilons Euphrates we seek rest
Our troubled thoughts suggest a world of care
That we noe more to Sion should repaire
We wept; and Greef supprest our stammering words
Whilst to our barren brests each eye affords
A showre of mollefying tears: Those stringes
To musique stretcht once, now like silent thinges
Hang by ther, on the willowes: which express
In their green branches our forsaken-ness.
Then the Fierce Lord Rich Solimis thus spoild
Requires a song of us that are exild
And that we should our Bannishments reherse
(As we were wont when Free) in Syons verse
When as Her Kingdomes prosperously stood
The Envy-mark to all her Neighberhood.
Would this Prophane soyle in derisian raise
The holy Keyes of our Diviner Layes?
Jerusalem? Shall any Age suppress
The Memory of Thy fayer Courts access
And Holy Temples? First I wish, and Pray
My right hand may forget on harp to play:
May voice forsake my Tongue, whilst thorough drouch
That becomes furrd soe sticks unto my mouth:
Rather than I Thy prayses should not guive
O're all my merth spetiall prerogative.
But Thou O Father bear in mind the cries
Of Edoms race over our Miseries
How They prescribd our Ruines, to Confound
And equallize all Pallaces with ground:
Thou shalt O wicked Babilon receive
Reward like wise of what thyself didst guive,
For happy shall he be to us doth joygn,
And pay Thee mischief in thy propper coyne:
Yea Blest, that tears Thy Sucklings from their brest
And with their braynes prepares the stones a feast.