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SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS!
SUN of the sleepless! melancholy star!
WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU DEEM'ST
IT TO BE.
WERE my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be,
It was but abjuring my creed to efface
The curse which, thou say'st, is the crime of my race.
If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee!
I have lost for that faith more than thou canst bestow, As the God who permits thee to prosper doth know; In his hand is my heart and my hope-and in thine The land and the life which for him I resign.
HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE.
OH, Mariamne! now for thee
The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding;
Revenge is lost in agony,
And wild remorse to rage succeeding.
Oh, Mariamne! where art thou?
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading: Ah, couldst thou-thou wouldst pardon now, Though Heaven were to my prayer unheeding.
And is she dead ?—and did they dare
The sword that smote her's o'er me waving.
But thou art cold, my murder'd love!
And this dark heart is vainly craving
For her who soars alone above,
And leaves my soul unworthy saving. ́
She's gone, who shared my diadem;
She sunk, with her my joys entombing;
I swept that flower from Judah's stem
And I have earn'd those tortures well,
Which unconsumed are still consuming!
ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF
FROM the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome
I beheld thee, Oh Sion! when render'd to Rome: 'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall Flash'd back on the last glance I gave to thy wall.
I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my home,
On many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed
And now on that mountain I stood on that day,
But the Gods of the Pagan shall never profane
BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT DOWN AND WEPT.
WE sate down and wept by the waters
And ye, oh her desolate daughters!
While sadly we gazed on the river
On the willow that harp is suspended,
And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended