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LAMENT OF THE HEBREW MINSTREL.

Where is thy temple and thy God? Where are thy triumphs flown? All vanish'd like a fiery cloud That flashes and is gone! Alas! thou sitt'st a wasted thing, All wretched and forlorn;

To thee no joy the sunbeams bring, But deeper shadows o'er thee fling, And make thy woes their scorn.

The time was, when I wander'd free Across thy hills and plains; And drank thy glorious liberty, And sang thy melting strains:

And prais'd the Lord, our mighty King, In high triumphant song; While far away the mountains rung, And back the joyous echoes flung The little hills along!

But these lov'd joys, on rapid wing, Far, far away are borne; While care and sorrow deeply sting, With slav'ry's sharpest thorn; To Judah, we must say, farewell! Farewell, to Zion's steep!

In foreign climes condemn'd to dweli, Full oft our mournful tale we'll tell, Lift up the voice and weep!