Song of Captivity, The

Lo! we sat, a mournful band,
     Exiled from our Zio long,
Captives in a stranger land,
     And the foes of God among;
Where the waters darkly swept,
Mournfully we sat and wept—

Wept for Zion’s overthrow—
     For her holy places waste,
Trampled by the ruthless foe,
     And her glory all effaced;
While the willow boughs among
Were our harps in silence hung.

For the soiler asked for mirth:
     “Give us one of Zion’s songs!”
From the country of our birth
     Exiles, can we tune our tongues?
Homeless, in the stranger’s home
Harp and voice alike are dumb.

Salem! if amid thy foes
     I should cease to think of thee,
And, forgetful of thy woes,
     Thou no more my oy should be,
Let my hand forget her skill,
And my tongue in death be still.

But a day of vengeance comes—
     Who its fury shall withstand?
To the spoilers of our homes—
     To the tramplers of our land!
Edom! swift upon thy path
Sweep the ministers of wrath!

Lo! Destruction waiteth now,
     Haughty Babylon! For thee;
And amid thine overthrow,
     Sorceress! happy shall he be
Who shall take thy little ones,
Dashing them against the stones!