And it was in the early morning of the same fatal day Tisha b'Ab, 5252, August 2, 1492, that the Jews of Spain repaired to their synagogues to worship there, for the last time, to sit upon the ground, with dust and ashes upon their heads, and girded with sack cloth, and read in accents sad, in accordance with an old established custom in Israel, Jeremiah's "Lamentations" over the destruction of the Temple, over the fall of Jerusalem and over the exile of the children of Israel into Babylon. They had read the "Lamentations" before, they had read them year after year with tremulous lips, with accents fervent and deep, but they never knew their meaning before. That morning the broken heart spoke. And oh, what wails of sorrow, what sobs of contrition, what passionate out-breaks, as they repeated the verses:
"How does the city sit solitary, that was full of people. How is she become as a widow! she that was great among the nations. She weepeth sore in the night and her tears are on her cheeks, among all her friends she hath none to comfort her. Judah is gone into captivity because of affliction, she dwelleth among the nations, she findeth no rest. Her adversaries are powerful, her enemies prosper, all that honored her despise her. It is nothing to you, all ye that pass by? Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, which is done unto me. Zion spreadeth forth her hands and there is none to comfort her. They cried unto them: Depart ye, ye are unclean, touch not, when they fled away and wandered, they said among the nations: they shall no more sojourn there. They hunt our steps, that we cannot go into our streets, our end is near, our days are fulfilled, for our end is come."
And forth they went from the house of God, the old and the young, the sick and the helpless, virgin and youth, bride and groom, man, woman, child, with hearts bleeding, with steps tottering, with faces haggard and hollow and wan, with figure bent, and spirit broken as they gazed with a vacant stare for the last time upon their emptied homes upon the desolate scenes of childhood and youth.
On they went, overwhelmed yet speechless. But over them a chorus of martyr spirits, they that on that day perished, for their faith's sake, at the siege of Nebuchadnezzar, they on that day breathed their last for Israel's sake, at the siege of Titus, they that on that day had died with the death of Israel's hope, at the siege of Julius Severus, over the exiles of Spain, these martyr spirits chanted with doleful voices:
"Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,
Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;
Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell;
Mourn—where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell!
And when shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?
And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet?