It is now the 30th of November, a month celebrated to a proverb in England, for its gloominess. We have had a troubled sky and foggy for several weeks past. The pleasant prospect of the surrounding shores has been obscured a great portion of this month. The countenances of our companions partake of our dismal atmosphere. It has even sobered our Frenchmen; they do not sing and caper as usual; nor do they swing their arms about, and talk with strong emphasis of every trifle. The thoughts of home obtrude upon us; and we feel as the poor Jews felt on the banks of the Euphrates, when their task-masters and prison-keepers insisted upon their singing a song. We all hung up our fiddles, as the Jews did their harps, and sat about, here and there, like barn-door fowls, when molting.
Our captivity on the banks of the river Medway, bordered with willows, brought to my mind the plaintive song of the children of Israel, in captivity on the banks of the river Euphrates, which psalm, among others, I used to sing with my mother and sisters, on Sunday evenings, when an innocent boy, and long before the wild notion of rambling, from a comfortable and plentiful home, came into my head. It is the 137th Psalm, Tate and Brady's version.
When we our weary limbs to rest
Sat down by proud Euphrates' stream,
We wept, with doleful thoughts opprest,
And Salem was our mournful theme.
Our harps, that, when with joy we sung,
Were wont their tuneful parts to bear,
With silent strings, neglected hung,
On willow trees, that wither'd there.
Meanwhile our foes, who all conspir'd
To triumph in our slavish wrongs,
Music and mirth of us requir'd,
"Come, sing us one of Zion's songs."
How shall we tune our voice to sing?
Or touch our harps with skilful hands?
Shall hymns of joy to God, our King,
Be sung by slaves in foreign lands?
O, Salem! Our once happy seat,
When I of thee forgetful prove,
Let then my trembling hand forget
The speaking strings with art to move!
If I, to mention thee, forbear,
Eternal silence seize my tongue!
Or if I sing one cheerful air,
Till my deliv'rance is my song.