Page:Translations from Camoens; and Other Poets.pdf/19



ESIDE the streams of Babylon, in tears Of vain desire, we sat; remembering thee, O hallowed Sion! and the vanished years, When Israel’s chosen sons were blest and free:

Our harps, neglected and untuned, we hung Mute on the willows of the stranger's land; When songs, like those that in thy fanes we sung, Our foes demanded from their captive-band.

How shall our voices, on a foreign shore, (We answer'd those whose chains the exile wore,) The songs of God, our sacred songs, renew? If I forget, midst grief and wasting toil, Thee, O Jerusalem! my native soil! May my right-hand forget its cunning too!