42
SONGS OF EXILE
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.
