# Poetical Works of John Oldham/Paraphrase upon the 137th Psalm

PARAPHRASE UPON THE 137TH PSALM.
i
Where great Euphrates with a mighty current flows,
And does in watery limits Babylon confine,
Cursed Babylon! the cause and author of our woes;
There, on the river's side.
Sat wretched captive we,
And in sad tears bewailed our misery; Tears, whose vast store increased the neighbouring tide. We wept, and straight our grief before us brought
A thousand distant objects to our thought.
As oft as we surveyed the gliding stream,
Loved Jordan did our sad remembrance claim;
As oft as we the adjoining city viewed, Dear Sion's razèd walls our grief renewed;
We thought on all the pleasures of our happy land,
Late ravished by a cruel conqueror's hand;
We thought on every piteous, every mournful thing,
That might excess to our enlarged sorrows bring.
2Deep silence told the greatness of our grief,
Of grief too great by vent to find relief;
Our harps, as mute and dumb as we,
Hung useless and neglected by;
And now and then a broken string would lend a sigh,
As if with us they felt a sympathy,
And mourned their own, and our captivity;
The gentle river, too, as if compassionate grown,
As 'twould its natives' cruelty atone,
As it passed by, in murmurs gave a pitying groan.
2
Who all our sufferings and misfortunes gave,
Did with rude insolence our sorrows brave,
And with insulting raillery thus mocked our pains:
'Play us,' said they, 'some brisk and airy strain,
Such as your ancestors were wont to hear
On Shilo's pleasant plain,
Where all the virgins met in dances once a year;
Or one of those
Which your illustrious David did compose,
While he filled Israel's happy throne,
Great soldier, poet, and musician, all in one:
Oft, have we heard, he went with harp in hand,
Captain of all the harmonious band,
And vanquished all the choir with 's single skill alone.'
4Forbid it. Heaven! forbid it, thou great thrice hallowed name,
We should thy sacred hymns defame,
Or them, with impious ears, profane.
No, no, inhuman slaves, is this a time
(Oh! cruel and preposterous demand!)
When every joy, and every smile's a crime,
A treason to our poor unhappy land,
Is this a time for sprightly airs,
When every look the badge of sorrow wears,
And livery of our miseries,
Sad miseries that call for all our breath in sighs,
And all the tribute of our eyes,
And moisture of our veins, our very blood in tears!
When nought can claim our thoughts, Jerusalem, but thou,
Nought but thy sad destruction, fall, and overthrow?
3
Envy of all the wondering world beside!
Oh, sacred temple, once the Almighty's blessed abode,
Now quite forsaken by our angry God!
Shall ever distant time, or place,
Your firm ideas from my soul deface?
Shall they not still take up my breast,
As long as that, and life, and I shall last?
Grant Heaven (nor shall my prayers the curse withstand)
That this my learnèd, skilful hand,
Which now o'er all the tuneful strings can boast command,
Which does as quick, as ready, and unerring prove,
Aa nature, when it would its joints or fingers move,
Grant, it forget its art and feeling too,
When I forget to think, to wish, to pray for you!
6For ever tied with dumbness be my tongue,
When it speaks aught that shall not to your praise belong,
If that be not the constant subject of my muse and song.
4
And with like sufferings their spite repay,
Who made our miseries their cruel mirth and scorn,
Who laughed to see our flaming city burn,
And wished it might to ashes turn:
'Raze, raze it,' was their cursèd cry,
'Raze all its stately structures down,
And lay its palaces and temple level with the ground,
Till Sion buried in its dismal ruins lie,
Forgot alike its place, its name, and memory.'
8And thou, proud Babylon! just object of our hate,
Thou too shalt feel the sad reverse of fate, Though thou art now exalted high, And with thy lofty head o'ertop'st the sky, As if thou wouldst the Powers above defy; Thou, if those powers (and sure they will) prove just,
If my prophetic grief can aught foresee,
Ere long shalt lay that lofty head in dust,
And blush in blood for all thy present cruelty;
How loudly then shall we retort these bitter taunts!
How gladly to the music of thy fetters dance!
5
That shall revenge our mighty wrong;
Then blessed, for ever blessed, be he
Whoever shall return 't on thee,
And grave it deep, and pay't with bloody usury!
May neither agM groans, nor infant cries,
Nor piteous mothers' tears, nor ravished virgins' sighs
Soften thy unrelenting enemies;
Let them, as thou to us, inexorable prove, Nor age, nor sex, their deaf compassion move; Rapes, murders, slaughters, funerals, And all thou durst attempt within our Sion's walls, Mayst thou endure, and more, till joyful we Confess thyself outdone in artful cruelty. 9Blessed, yea thrice blessèd, be that barbarous hand (O grief, that I such dire revenge commend!) Who tears out infants from their mothers' womb, And hurls them yet unborn unto their tomb;
Blessed he who plucks them from their parents' arms,
That sanctuary from all common harms, Who with their skulls and bones shall pave thy streets all o'er,
And fill thy glutted channels with their scattered brains and gore.