Lamentations, Chapter 1

How like a Widow, ah! how desolate
This Citie sits! throwne from the pride of State!
How is this Potent Queene, who lawes to all
The neighbouring Nations gave, become a Thrall!
Who Nightly teares from her salt fountaines sheds:
Which fall upon her Cheekes in liquid Beads.
Of all her Lovers, none regard her woes:
And her perfidious Friends increase her Foes.
Judah in exile wanders: ah! subdu'd
By vast afflictions, and base servitude.
Among the Barbarous Heathen finds no rest:
At home, abroad, on every side opprest.
Ah! see how Sion mournes! Her Gates, and wayes,
Lye unfrequented on her solemne Dayes.
Her Virgins weepe; her Priests lament her fall:
And all her sustenance converts to gall.
A wretched vassall to her salvage Foes:
Her numerous Sinnes the Authors of these Woes.
Behold, how they, who by her losses thrive,
Into captivitie her Children drive!
O Sions Daughter, all thy Beauty's lost!
Thy chased Princes are like Harts imbost,
Which find no water; and infeebled flye
Before the Eager Hunters dreadfull Cry.
Jerusalem in these her Miseries,
And Dayes of Mourning, sets before her Eyes
Those vanish't Pleasures which shee once enjoy'd;
Her People now by hostile swords destroy'd:
Whil'st none afford Compassion to her woes;
Her Sabbaths scorn'd by her insulting foes.
Jerusalem hath sinn'd; is now remov'd
For her uncleannesse: those who lately lov'd,
As much despise; her nakednesse descry'd:
Who sighes for shame, and turnes her face aside.
Pollution staines her skirts; yet her last end
Remembred not: for this without a friend
Stupendiously shee fell. Great God behold
My Sorrowes, since the Foe is growne so bold!
Hath ravish't all wherein shee tooke delight;
His Insolence contending with his Might.
Ah! shee hath seene th'uncircumcis'd profane
Thy Temple, whose approach thy Lawes restraine.
Her People, sighing secke for bread; who give
Their wealth for food, that their faint soules may live.
Consider Lord; ô looke on the forlorne!
Who am to all the world a generall Scorne.
Who Passengers, though this concerne not you,
Here fixe your Steps, and my strange Sufferings view.
Was ever sorrow like my Sorrow knowne!
Which God hath on me in his fury throwne!
He from the breaking Clouds his flames hath cast;
Which in my Bones the boyling Marrow wast:
Hath set snares for my feet, throwne to the ground;
Left desolate, and fainting with my wound.
Who of my Sins hath made a yoake, to check
My Insolence; and cast it on my Neck.
My Strength hath broken; to my Enemies
Subdu'd my Powers: now, ah! too weake to rise.
He, in the mid'st of me, hath trodden downe
My mighty Men; and those of most Renowne.
His Troopes on my strong youth like Torrents rush't:
As in a wine-presse, Judah's Daughter crush't.
For this I weepe! my eye, my galled Eye,
Dissolves in Streames: for he who should apply
Balme to my wounds, farre, ô farre of is fled!
My Children desolate; their Foe, their head.
Her Hands sad Sion rais'd; no Comfort found:
Jehova charg'd her foes to guir'd her round.
Jerusalem, O thou of late belov'd;
Now like a Menstruous Woman art remov'd.
The Lord is just: tis I that have rebell'd;
And by my wild revolt his Grace expell'd.
Heare, and behold my woes: my Orphans torne
From my forc'd Armes, and into exile borne.
I to my boasting Lovers call'd for ayd:
But they their vowes infring'd, my trust betray'd.
My Priests and Princes, while they seeke for bread
To feed their hungry Soules, augment the Dead.
Lord looke on me! my heart roules in my Breast:
My Bowels stoyle, like Seas with Stormes opprest.
I have provok't thy Vengeance with my Sinne:
Without the Sword destroyes, and Dearth within.
My sighes no pitty move: my cruell Foes
Enjoy thy Wrath, and glory in my Woes.
Yet that presaged Time will come, when they
Shall equall Sorrowes to thy Justice pay.
O set their impious deeds before thine eyes;
And presse them with my waighty Miseries:
(The Birth of Sinne) which breake into complaint;
My groanes are numberlesse, my Spirits faint.