English

We flew with white wings fluttering o'er the nation,
Bearing God's promise of divine salvation,
If worthy men were found in prayer's prostration.

We sought the righteous, pure of heart and holy,
The priest-deceived, the ignorant, the lowly,
Those who for sinning do not languish solely,

Those who unto the boundless skies aspire,
Who live and hope that fate holds something higher
Than bestial altars stained with blood and fire,

But we have failed, and in our indignation
We have beheld, with cries and lamentation,

Now God was angered at the vice of Sodom.
Each day her sins became more bold and grievous.
Lust was abroad upon her many highways,
And it was worshiped in a throng of temples.
So He resolved to chastise and to doom it
With scorching flame, alert and purifying.

And Abraham, a man of prayer and holy,
A friend to Lot, who loved him like a father,
Implored the Lord in humble intercession,
And stood before Him, desolate and anxious,
Crying: " O Lord! if Thou this town destroyest,

Now Lot, the son of Haran, dwelt within
The city's walls and loved its many ways;
But he was pure of heart unto his praise,
And much deplored all God-defying sin.

He lived estranged from the licentious throng,
Doting upon the fairness of his wife,
Proud of the blameless quiet of his life,
A righteous man and unashamed of song.

For he had sisters twain, alert and gay,
Milcah and Iscah, and their voices, blent
In praise to God, would send a ravishment
Unto him, at the twilight of the day.

By sweet love we are not weak,
And our vengeance we can wreak
Upon any foe audacious who doth dare to stand before us!
There is danger in our eyes,
There is slaughter in our cries,
When the blaring trumpets thunder and our banners flutter o'er us.

We have fallen like a rain
On the cowards of the plain.
We have thrust our glittering lances in their bosoms unvictorious.
We have faced the Girgashites
And the haughty Jebusites,

Mighty Bera, no one raises
Unto thee the praise of praises;
Every day thy people hail thee
With the songs that are the same.
With no blame dare they assail thee,
Or with merry meaning flail thee,
And the gods in wrath forsake them in their unprolific shame!

I will sing thy praises splendid,
Which on earth have never ended;
I will tell the tribes in wonder
Of thy prowesses unknown;
I will prove, and without blunder,
That above the stars or under

Oh, sweet passer! I am strong,
Grace and charm to me belong;
All my flesh is like soft sammet and my muscles rival steel;
I have spices on my breast;
My dark locks are oiled and tressed,
And the wounds of suffering passion I can mollify and heal.

Hark, all ye who round me throng,
I can sing a lulling song,
I can charm you with the cadence of my rich sonorous voice,
And with suave, melodious words,
Sweeter far than trills of birds,

Come to me, all ye who burn
For a passion in return!
There are perfumes on my body and fresh leaves upon my hair;
I am sleek and very wise,
I know woman's softest sighs.
Any my kisses warm and manly all the senses can ensnare.

I am old, ay, very old,
And my price is bricks of gold,
Being chief and holy master of the lovers of the town.
I am high priest unto Bel,
In the grace of Vul I dwell.
And the motion of my pleasure is a song and a renown!

Oh, sweet passer! I am fair,
For the lily scents my hair,
Made most redolent and glossy by the radiant roses' oil;
My ringed arms are dazzling white,
And my kiss is a delight,
While the sweet alhenna clusters burn my bosom while I toil.

Like my goddess, great Ishtar,
My black glance outshines a star,
And my form is warm and wavy, like the palm and the tamar;
I have sapphires and rare gems
On my mantle's scarlet hems,

Oh, sacred Nergal! on thy high throne stately,
Protect us now, for we respect thee greatly.
Judge of the golden scepter, vast and holy,
Guard us from evil's messengers, we pray thee.
Our lives are given and fettered to obey thee.
We worship thee alone, thy glory solely!

Thou art alone our master pure and rightful;
In thee are all things perfect and delightful:
Thou, thou alone of heavenly kings art regal!
We bow before thee in our utter rankness,
In all our sin's ignoble, naked frankness;

Sodom in all the splendor of her towers,
The monumental miracle and grace
Of all the haughty cities of the plain,
Throbbed and exulted in her love of life,
Like some great marble monster animate.
Beyond the bristling circuit of the walls,
Peopled by glittering sentinels at arms,
Stretched in a flowerful labyrinth of green
The leafy loveliness of Siddim's vale,
Teeming with orchards of ancestral trees,
Alive with grazing flocks and myriad birds,
A revel and delight of clustering vines,