Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/266

256 While he filled Israel's happy throne, Great soldier, poet, and musician, all in one: Oft, have we heard, he went with harp in hand, Captain of all the harmonious band, And vanquished all the choir with 's single skill alone.' Forbid it. Heaven! forbid it, thou great thrice hallowed name, We should thy sacred hymns defame, Or them, with impious ears, profane. No, no, inhuman slaves, is this a time (Oh! cruel and preposterous demand!) When every joy, and every smile's a crime, A treason to our poor unhappy land, Is this a time for sprightly airs, When every look the badge of sorrow wears, And livery of our miseries, Sad miseries that call for all our breath in sighs, And all the tribute of our eyes, And moisture of our veins, our very blood in tears! When nought can claim our thoughts, Jerusalem, but thou, Nought but thy sad destruction, fall, and overthrow? Oh, dearest city! late our nation's justest pride! Envy of all the wondering world beside! Oh, sacred temple, once the Almighty's blessed abode, Now quite forsaken by our angry God! Shall ever distant time, or place, Your firm ideas from my soul deface? Shall they not still take up my breast, As long as that, and life, and I shall last? Grant Heaven (nor shall my prayers the curse withstand) That this my learnèd, skilful hand, Which now o'er all the tuneful strings can boast command, Which does as quick, as ready, and unerring prove, Aa nature, when it would its joints or fingers move,