"If ever, much lov'd Sion, thou
Dost from my mind depart,
May my right hand no longer know
Soft musick's soothing art.
"If when in jocund songs I smile,
Thou'rt not my choicest theme,
May my tongue lose her wonted skill,
Nor drink at Siloa's stream.
"When Babylon's unhallowed host,
Flow'd in with hostile tide,