The Maid of Jerusalem


Maid of Jerusalem, by the Dead Sea
I wandered all sorrowful thinking of thee; —
Thy city in ruins; thy kingdom deplored, —
All fallen and lost by the Ottoman's sword.


I saw thee sit there in disconsolate sighs
Where the hall of thy father's a ruined heap lies;
Thy fair fingers shewed me the place where they trod
In thy childhood, when flourished the kingdom of God.


The place where they fell, and the scenes where they lie,
In the tombs of Siloa; — (the tear in her eye
She stifled, — transfix'd there, it grew like a pearl,
Beneath the dark lash of the sweet Jewish girl).


Jerusalem is fallen; — still thou art in bloom,
As fresh as the ivy around the lone tomb,
And fair as the lily of morning that waves
Its sweet scented bells o'er the desolate graves.


When I think of Jerusalem in kingdoms yet free,
I shall think of its ruins, and think upon thee,
Thou beautiful Jewess! — content thou may'st roam,
A bright spot in Eden still blooms as thy home. —
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