FROM PSALM CXXXVII.
“Na ribeira de Euprates assentado.”
Wrapt in sad musings, by Euphrates’ stream
I sat, retracing days for ever flown,
While rose thine image on the exile’s dream,
O much-loved Salem! and thy glories gone:
When they who caused the ceaseless tears I shed,
Thus to their captive spoke—“Why sleep thy lays?
Sing of thy treasures lost, thy splendour fled,
And all thy triumphs in departed days!