  Art thou not, Zion, fain To send forth greetings from thy sacred rock Unto thy captive train, Who greet thee as the remnants of thy flock? Take thou on every side— East, west, and south, and north—their greetings multiplied. Sadly he greets thee still, The prisoner of hope, who, day and night, Sheds ceaseless tears, like dew on Hermon's hill— Would that they fell upon thy mountain's height! Harsh is my voice when I bewail thy woes, But when in fancy's dream I see thy freedom, forth its cadence flows Sweet as the harps that hung by Babel's stream. My heart is sore distressed For Bethel ever blessed, For Peniel, and each ancient, sacred place. The holy presence there To thee is present where Thy Maker opes thy gates, the gates of heaven to face. The glory of the Lord will ever be Thy sole and perfect light; No need hast thou, then, to illumine thee, Of sun by day, or moon and stars by night. I would that, where God's Spirit was of yore Poured out unto thy holy ones, I might There too my soul outpour! The house of kings and throne of God wert thou, How comes it then that now Slaves fill the throne where sat thy kings before? Oh! who will lead me on To seek the posts where, in far-distant years, The angels in their glory dawned upon Thy messengers and seers? Oh! who will give me wings That I may fly away, And there, at rest from all my wanderings, The ruins of my heart among thy ruins lay? I'll bend my face unto thy soil, and hold Thy stones as precious gold. And when in Hebron I have stood beside My fathers' tombs, then will I pass in turn Thy plains and forest wide, Until I stand on Gilead and discern Mount Hor and Mount Abarim, 'neath whose crest Thy luminaries twain, thy guides and beacons rest. Thy air is life unto my soul, thy grains Of dust are myrrh, thy streams with honey flow; Naked and barefoot, to thy ruined fanes How gladly would I go; To where the ark was treasured, and in dim Recesses dwelt the holy cherubim. I rend the beauty of my locks, and cry In bitter wrath against the cruel fate That bids thy holy Nazarites to lie In earth contaminate. How can I make or meat or drink my care, How can mine eyes enjoy The light of day, when I see ravens tear Thy eagles' flesh, and dogs thy lions' whelps destroy? Away! thou cup of sorrow's poisoned gall! Scarce can my soul thy bitterness sustain. When I Ahola unto mind recall, I taste thy venom; and when once again Upon Aholiba I muse, thy dregs I drain. Jehuda Halevi. |
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