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From the last hill that looks on thy...

Language: English

From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome
I beheld thee, oh Sion, when rendered to Rome.
'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall
Flash'd back on the last glance I gave to thy wall.

I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my home,
And forgot for a moment my bondage to come;
I beheld but the death fire that fed on thy fane,
And the fast-fettered hands that made vengeance in vain.

On many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed
Had reflected the last beam of day as it blazed;
While I stood on the height and beheld the decline
Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy shrine;

And now on that mountain I stood on that day,
But I mark'd not the twilight beam melting away;
Oh! would that the lightning had glared in its stead,
And the thunderbolt burst on the conqueror's head!

But the gods of the pagan shall never profane
The shrine where Jehovah disdain'd not to reign;
And scattered and scorn'd as thy people may be,
Our worship, oh Father, is only for thee!


Translation(s): FRE GER

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Submitted by Andrew Shackleton

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

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Text added to the website: 2005-07-28.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:13
Line count: 20
Word count: 194

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Sur le jour de la destruction de Jérusalem par Titus

Language: French (Français) after the English

De la dernière colline qui regarde ton dôme naguère sacré,
je t'ai contemplée, ô Sion ! quand tu fus livrée à Rome.
Ton dernier jour était venu, et les flammes de ta ruine
ont éclairé le dernier coup-d'œil que je donnai à tes murs.

Je regardai ton temple, je regardai ma maison,
et j'oubliai un moment mon esclavage à venir.
Je ne vis que l'incendie qui dévorait tes autels,
et les mains trop bien enchaînées qui auraient en vain tenté la vengeance.

Maintes fois sur le soir, ce lieu élevé, d'où j'observais ta chute,
avait réfléchi les derniers feux du jour,
lorsque, monté sur le sommet, je contemplais le déclin
du soleil du haut de la montagne qui brillait sur ton sanctuaire.

Mais en ce jour fatal j'étais sur la montagne,
et ne remarquais pas les rayons du crépuscule se fondre peu à peu dans les ténèbres.
Oh ! plût à Dieu que les éclairs eussent flamboyé en leur place,
et que la foudre eût éclaté sur la tête du conquérant !

Mais les dieux du Gentil ne profaneront jamais
le sanctuaire où Jéhovah n'a pas dédaigné de régner:
quelque dispersé, quelque outragé que puisse être ton peuple,
ô père céleste ! nos adorations ne sont que pour toi !


Submitted by Guy Laffaille [Guest Editor]

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)

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Text added to the website: 2012-01-15.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:04:45
Line count: 20
Word count: 210