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Our Mothers are but Widows under Chains
Of Wedlock, and of all their Nuptial Gains,
None of the Mother but the Pangs remains.
Famifh'd with Want, we Wilds and Defarts tread,
And fainting, wander for our needful Bread,
Where Wolves and Tygers round in Ambush lie,
And Hofts with naked Swords ftand threatning by.
But keener Hunger, more a Beast of Prey,
More fharp than thefe, more ravenous than they,
[our bitter Way.
Thro'Swords, and Wolves, and Tygers, breaks
The Fowls, and Beafts, and ev'ry Sylvan Kind,
Down to the meaneft Infects Heav'n defign'd,
To be the Slaves of Man, were always free
Of Waters, Woods, and common Air; but we,
We Slaves, and Beafts, and more than Infects vile,
That half-born wanton on the Banks of Nile,
Are glad to buy the Leavings they can spare
Of Waters, Woods, and the more common Air.
WithLoads of Chains our Foes pursue their Stroke,
And lug our aking Necks beneath their Yoke:
No Intermiffion gives the Weary Breath,
But endless Drudging drags us on to Death.
Our Cries afcend, and like a Trumpet blow,
All Egypt and Affyria hear our Woe:
Here, Nights we labour; there, whole Days we [fweat, And barely earn the heartless Bread we eat.
VII. Our old Fore-Fathers finn'd, and are no more, They pawn'd their Children to defray their Score. Thrice happy they! by Death from Suffering freed, But all our Fathers Scourges lafh their Seed. Vengeance, at which great Zion's Entrails shakes, Shoots thro' the inmoft of the Soul, and rakes, Where
Where Pride lurks deepeft, there we feel our Pain,
Our Slaves are Masters, and our Menials reign.
Whilft we unrefcu'd fend our Cries around,
To feek Relief, but no Relief is found.
Look on our Cheeks, and in each Furrow trace
Pale Famine, ftaring in the meagre Face.
The driving Tempeft lets its Fury go,
And pours upon us, in a Burst of Woe.
The Signs of conscious Guilt our Brows impart,'
Black as our Sin, and harden'd as our Heart.
From Zion's Mount the humble Matrons cry,
- With mournful Eccho's, Juda's Maids reply,
Beneath our haughty Foes destructive Hands
Our Great Ones fall; not facred Age withstands
Their impious Scoffs; our Youth,in bloomyPrime,
Compell'd, fubmit to their indecent Crime,
And Children whelm'd with Labour, fall before
Thus Prince and People, Infancy and Age,
Promifcuous Objects of an impious Rage,,
But ferve to haunt us wherefoe'er we go,
With horrid Scenes of Universal Woe.
Old Men no more in Zion's Council fit,
Nor young in Conforts of her Mufick meet;
Such foolish Change fond Profligates devife,
The Old turn Singers, and the Young advise;
Perverted Order to Confufion runs,
And all th'inverted Mufick ends in Groans;
Zion, thy ancient Glories are decay'd,
Thy Lawrels wither, and thy Garlands fade;
Oh Sin! 'tis thou haft this Deftruction made.
.' I Muldo
'Tis Zion then, 'tis Zion we deplore, 14
For her we grieve, for Zion is no more;
Our Eyes condole in Tears, and jointly smart
With all the Anguish of an aking Heart D 10
Who can refisin, to fee the woful Sight,
All Nations Envy, and the World's Delight,
Now grown a Defart, where the Foxes range,
And howling Wolves lament the dismal Change.
But the firm Footstool of thy Throne shall be
Th'unfhaken Base of fix'd Eternity.
Great God! by thee must we forfaken lie,
Or loft for ever, in Oblivion die.
Turn but to us, O Lord, we'll mend our Ways,'
Ah! once restore the Joys of ancient Days;
E'en tho' we seem the Outcasts of thy Care,
Refuse of Death, and Gleanings of the War,
Refume the Father, and let Sinners know,
Thy Mercy's greater than thy People's Woe.