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We sat down and wept by the waters

Language: English

We sat down and wept by the waters
Of Babel, and thought of the day
When our foe in the hue of his slaughters
Made Salem's high places his prey;
And ye, oh her desolate daughters!
Were scatter'd all weeping away.

While sadly we gazed on the river
Which roll'd on in freedom below,
They demanded the song: but oh
Never that triumph the stranger shall know!
May this right hand be wither'd for ever
Ere it string our high harp for the foe!

On the willow that harp is suspended,
Oh Salem! its sound should be free;
And the hour when thy glories were ended
But left me that token of thee:
And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended
With the voice of the spoiler by me!


Translation(s): FRE GER GER GER

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Submitted by Emily Ezust

Authorship


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Settings in other languages or adaptations:

  • Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by Franz Theremin (1780 - 1846) , title 1: "An den Wassern zu Babel", from Hebräische Gesänge, published 1820 FRE by Johann Karl Gottfried Loewe, M. Henle.
  • Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist FRE by Ferruccio Busoni.
  • Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by Adolf Böttger (1815 - 1870) FRE by Carl Georg Peter Grädener.

Other available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):


Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.

Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:01:23
Line count: 18
Word count: 129

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An Babylons Wassern

Language: German (Deutsch) after the English

An Babylons Wassern wir weinten
Und dachten des Tages in Leid,
Da zur Beute bluttreifenden Feinden
Salems Tempel Verderben geweiht
Und ihr, die in Gott einst Vereinten,
In die Welt hinaus wurdet zerstreut.

Trauernd sah’n wir zum Strom, der im Schimmer 
seiner Wellen hinrollte so frei.
Sie verlangten den Sang. Aber nimmer 
Gewährt der Triumph ihnen sei.
Verdorre die Hand hier für immer,
stimmt dem Feind sie die Harfe dabei!

Die Heilige hängt an der Weide.
O Salem, frei sollte sie sein.
Und der Tag, da dem Feind du zur Beute,
Liess mir dieses Zeichen allein.
Und jenes Gesang drum begleite
Ihr Klang nicht, der sanfte, o nein!


Submitted by Claus Temps

Authorship


Based on

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Text added to the website: 2016-08-06.
Last modified: 2016-08-06 21:22:09
Line count: 18
Word count: 108