Chapter 1

A lone she dwells, the city erewhile so populous; a widow now, once a queen among the nations; tributary now, that once had provinces at her command.

B e sure she weeps; there in the darkness her cheeks are wet with tears; of all that courted her, none left to console her, all those lovers grown weary of her, and turned into enemies.

C ruel the suffering and the bondage of Juda’s exile;1 that she must needs dwell among the heathen! Nor respite can she find; close at her heels the pursuit, and peril on either hand.

D esolate, the streets of Sion; no flocking, now, to the assembly; the gateways lie deserted. Sighs priest, and the maidens go in mourning, so bitter the grief that hangs over all.

E xultant, now, her invaders; with her enemies nothing goes amiss. For her many sins, the Lord has brought doom on her, and all her children have gone into exile, driven before the oppressor.

F led is her beauty, the Sion that was once so fair; her chieftains have yielded their ground before the pursuer, strengthless as rams2 that can find no pasture.

G rievous the memories she holds, of the hour when all her ancient glories passed from her, when her people fell defenceless before the invader, unresisting before an enemy that derided them.

H einously Jerusalem sinned; what wonder if she became an outlaw?4 How they fell to despising her when they saw her shame, that once flattered her! Deeply she sighed, and turned away her head.

I ll might skirts of her robe the defilement conceal; alas, so reckless of her doom, alas, fallen so low, with none to comfort her! Mark it well, Lord; see how humbled I, how exultant my adversary!

J ealous hands were laid on all she treasured; so it was that she must see Gentiles profane her sanctuary, Gentiles, by thy ordinance from the assembly debarred.

K indred was none but went sighing for lack of bread, offered its precious heirlooms for food to revive men’s hearts. Mark it well, Lord, and see my pride abased!

L ook well, you that pass by, and say if there was ever grief like this grief of mine; never a grape on the vineyard left to glean, when the Lord’s threat of vengeance is fulfilled.

M ust fire from heaven waste my whole being, ere I can learn my lesson? Must he catch me in a net, to drag me back from my course? Desolate he leaves me, to pine away all the day long with grief.

N o respite it gives me, the yoke of guilt I bear, by his hand fastened down upon my neck; see, I faint under it! The Lord has given me up a prisoner to duress there is no escaping.

O f all I had, the Lord has taken away the noblest; lost to me, all the flower of my chivalry, under his strict audit; Sion, poor maid, here was a wine-press well trodden down!

P ray you, should I not weep? Fountains these eyes are, that needs must flow; comforter is none at hand, that should revive my spirits. Lost to me, all those sons of mine, outmatched by their enemy.

Q uest for consolation is vain, let her plead where she will; neighbours of Jacob, so the Lord decrees, are Jacob’s enemies, and all around they shrink from her, as from a thing unclean.

R ight the Lord has in his quarrel; I have set his commands at defiance. O world, take warning; see what pangs I suffer, all my folk gone into exile, both man and maid.

S o false the friends that were once my suitors! And now the city lacks priests and elders both, that went begging their bread, to revive the heart in them.

T ake note, Lord, of my anguish, how my bosom burns, and my heart melts within me, in bitter ruth.6 And all the while, sword threatens without, and death not less cruel within.

U ncomforted my sorrow, but not unheard; my enemies hear it, and rejoice that my miseries are of thy contriving. Ah, but when thy promise comes true, they shall feel my pangs!

V intager who didst leave my boughs so bare, for my much offending, mark well their cruelty, and strip these too in their turn; here be sighs a many, and a sad heart to claim it.