Through the wide world in friendless exile stray,
Remorse and shame sole comrades of their way,

With dumb despair their country's wrongs behold,
And, dead to glory, only burn for gold.

O Thou, their Guide, their Father, and their Lord, Lov'd for Thy mercies, for Thy power ador'd!

If at Thy Name the waves forgot their force,
And refluent Jordan sought his trembling source;
If at Thy Name like sheep the mountains fled,
And haughty Sirion bow'd his marble head;—
To Israel's woes a pitying ear incline,

And raise from earth Thy long-neglected vine!
Her rifled fruits behold the heathen bear,
And wild-wood boars her mangled clusters tear.
Was it for this she stretch'd her peopled reign
From far Euphrates to the western main?

For this, o'er many a hill her boughs she threw,
And her wide arms like goodly cedars grew?
For this, proud Edom slept beneath her shade,
And o'er th' Arabian deep her branches play'd?

O, feeble boast of transitory power!

Vain, fruitless trust of Judah's happier hour!

Not such their hope, when through the parted main

The cloudy wonder led the warrior train :

Not such their hope, when through the fields of night

The torch of heaven diffus'd its friendly light:

Not, when fierce conquest urg'd the onward war,

And hurl'd stern Canaan from his iron car:

Nor, when five monarchs led to Gibeon's fight,
In rude array, the harness'd Amorite :
Yes-in that hour, by mortal accents stay'd,
The lingering Sun his fiery wheels delay'd;

The Moon, obedient, trembled at the sound,

Curb'd her pale car, and check'd her mazy round!
Let Sinai tell-for she beheld his might,

And God's own darkness veil'd her mystic height:

(He, cherub-borne, upon the whirlwind rode,

And the red mountain like a furnace glow'd):

Let Sinai tell-but who shall dare recite
His praise, his power, eternal, infinite?—

Awe-struck I cease; nor bid my strains aspire,

Or serve his altar with unhallow'd fire.

Such were the cares that watch'd o'er Israel's fate,

And such the glories of their infant state.

-Triumphant race! and did your power decay?
Fail'd the bright promise of your early day?

No;-by that sword, which, red with heathen gore,

A giant spoil, the stripling champion bore;

By him, the chief to farthest India known,

The mighty master of the iv'ry throne;

In Heaven's own strength, high towering o'er her foes,

Victorious Salem's lion banner rose:

Before her footstool prostrate nations lay,

And vassal tyrants crouch'd beneath her sway.

-And he, the kingly sage, whose restless mind.
Through nature's mazes wander'd unconfin'd;
Who ev'ry bird, and beast, and insect knew,

And spake of every plant that quaffs the dew;
To him were known-so Hagar's offspring tell-

The powerful sigil and the starry spell,

The midnight call, hell's shadowy legions dread,

And sounds that burst the slumbers of the dead.

Hence all his might; for who could these oppose?

And Tadmor thus, and Syrian Balbec rose.

Yet e'en the works of toiling Genii fall,

And vain was Estakhar's enchanted wall.

In frantic converse with the mournful wind,

There oft the houseless Santon rests reclin'd;

Strange shapes he views, and drinks with wond'ring ears

The voices of the dead, and songs of other years.

Such, the faint echo of departed praise,

Still sound Arabia's legendary lays;

And thus their fabling bards delight to tell

How lovely were thy tents, O Israel!

For thee his iv'ry load Behemoth bore,

And far Sofala teem'd with golden ore;

Thine all the arts that wait on wealth's increase,

Or bask and wanton in the beam of peace.
When Tyber slept beneath the cypress gloom,
And silence held the lonely woods of Rome;

Or ere to Greece the builder's skill was known,

Or the light chisel brush'd the Parian stone;

Yet here fair Science nurs'd her infant fire,

Fann'd by the artist aid of friendly Tyre.

Then tower'd the palace, then in awful state
The Temple rear'd its everlasting gate.

No workman steel, no pond'rous axes rung;

Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung.

Majestic silence!-then the harp awoke,

The cymbal clang'd, the deep-voic'd trumpet spoke;

And Salem spread her suppliant arms abroad,

View'd the descending flame, and bless'd the present God.

Nor shrunk she then, when, raging deep and loud,

Beat o'er her soul the billows of the proud.

E'en they who, dragg'd to Shinar's fiery sand,

Till'd with reluctant strength the stranger's land;
Who sadly told the slow-revolving years,

And steep'd the captive's bitter bread with tears;-
Yet oft their hearts with kindling hopes would burn,
Their destin'd triumphs, and their glad return,