The Maccabaean

Lift up your voices, daughters of Zion!Sing and rejoice with cymbals.Bind with fillets of silver, with leaves of goldAnd flowers of lapis and coralThe brows that are smiling.Sound the low drums now,Blow the pipes for the dancing.Zion is risen again,Zion as a queen who was sleeping,Zion as a conqueror home from the heavywars.For the years of your exile are done.From the footless route of the dunes,From the aching dark of the Ghettos,From the place of the scourge,Emerging,A moving river of faces,Proud blood that dumbly shouts,You returnTo the tents of your fathers,To the fields that mock the sunset skies withtheir beauty,To the mountains that rise like the sisters ofhappy giants,The mistwoven mountains of joy.Is it more than a dream. . .In the shadow of the olivesTo look on the vine-wrapped hillocksWhere the wine ripens in silence.To rest and to hear far offThe soft song of the peasants.To ignore the gates of the paleAt the sound of the twilight bell.To lean on the bridge and care for no onewho passes.To give your wisdom the sinews of strength;To put the seal of the Pharaohs on the fingerof your young wisdom.Sing, daughters of Zion,Sing and rejoice in the streets.

For your mother is come, who was mourned for As Joseph in Egypt, Sold to the thieves to be a slave of the nations; Her brothers look upon Zion, Giver of loaves and honey, The companion of princes. Zion is awakened, is risen, His eyelashes wet with the dew-fall. His limbs are girdled with lilies, His loins with the sheep-skin. His mouth is sweeter than roses, And his hair thick as the grape-leaves. Zion comes down from the mountains. In his breast there is slumber; But his heart is hot as the desert, Fierce as beasts in the thicket His riotous blood. Zion stands in the sun. Go, greet him with music, Clap your hands and your anklets. Dance till your garments flutter like white doves in the sunshine. He will give you young males Like lions. He will give you daughters like lilies, His kiss is honey and fire. Lift up your voice, oh Zion, And you beloved of Zion, For he returns as a lover Thru the eager dark, Like music; The heart of the night is a song, And the morning Over the wild, bright mountains Moves like a dancer.