Pearly tears, which, join’d together
By the golden threads of rhythm,
As a song from poesy’s
Golden smithy have proceeded.
And this song of pearly tears
Is the famous lamentation
That is sung in all the scatter’d
And far-distant tents of Jacob
On the ninth day of the month Ab,
That sad anniversary
Of Jerusalem’s destruction
By the Emperor Vespasian.
Yes, it is the song of Zion
That Jehuda ben Halevy
Sang when dying on the holy
Ruins of Jerusalem.
Barefoot and in lowly garments
Sat he there upon the fragment
Of a pillar that had fallen,
Till upon his breast there fell
Like a gray old wood his hair,
Shading over in strange fashion
His afflicted pallid features,
With his eyes so like a spectre’s.
In this manner sat he, singing,
In appearance like a minstrel
From the times of old, like ancient
Jeremiah, grave-arisen.
Soon the birds around the ruins
By his numbers’ mournful cadence
All were tamed, and e’en the vulture
Drew near list’ning, almost pitying,—
But an impious Saracen
Came one day in that direction,
On his charger in his stirrups
Balancing, his bright lance wielding.
And the breast of our poor singer
With this deadly spear transfix’d he,
And then gallop’d off instanter
Wing’d as though a shadowy figure.