God of the thunder! from whose cloudy seat
The fiery winds of Desolation flow;
Father of vengeance, that with purple feet
Like a full wine-press tread’st the world below;
The embattled armies wait thy sign to slay,
Nor springs the beast of havoc on his prey,
Nor withering Famine walks his blasted way,
Till thou hast marked the...
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My harp is on the willow-tree,
Else would I sing, O love, to thee
A song of long-ago---
Perchance the song that Miriam sung
Ere yet Judea's heart was wrung
By centuries of woe.
I ate my crust in tears to-day,
As scourged I went upon my way---
And yet my darling...