The Maccabaean

I, calling back Aholah's memory, Drink thine hot poison; and remembering Aholibah, I drain the dregs of thee. Zion. O, perfect in thy beauty ,found With love bound up, with grace encompassing, With thy soul thy companions' souls are bound; They that rejoice at thy tranquillity, And mourn the wasteness of thine overthrow, And weep at thy destruction bitterly; They from the captive's pit, each one that waits Panting towards thee; all they bending low Each one from his own place, towards thy gates; The flocks of all thy multitudes of old That, sent from mount to hill in scattered flight, Have yet forgotten nevermore thy fold; That take fast clinging hold upon thy skirt, Striving to grasp the palm-boughs on thine height, To come to thee at last with strength begirt. Shinar and Pathros—nay, can these compare With thee in state? And can thy purity, And can thy light be like the vain things there? And thine anointed—who among their throng Compareth? Likened unto whom shall be Levites and seers and singers of thy song? Lo, it shall pass, shall change, the heritage Of vain-crowned kingdoms; not all time subdues Thy strength; thy crown endures from age to age. Thy God desired thee for a dwelling place; And happy is the man whom he shall choose, And draw him nigh to rest within thy space. Happy is he that waiteth;—he shall go To thee, and thine arising radiance see When over him shall break thy morning glow; And see rest for thy chosen; and sublime Rejoicing find amid the joy of thee Returned unto thine olden youthful time.