THE BURNING OF THE LAW
89
But lo! my tears are dried, when, fast outpoured,
They down my cheeks are shed;
Scorched by the fire within: because thy Lord
Hath turned and fled.
Taking His holy treasure, He hath made
His journey far away;
And with Him hath not thy protecting shade
Vanished for aye?
And I am desolate and sore bereft,
Lo! a forsaken one:
Like a sole beacon on a mountain left,
A tower alone.
I hear the voice of singers now no more,
Silence their song hath bound;
The strings are broken which on harps of yore
Breathed forth sweet sound.
