Where's all the Young, the Valiant, and the Gay
That on her Festivals were us'd to play
Harmonious Tunes, and beautify the Day?
The glittering Troops, which did from far
Bring home the Trophies, and the Spoils of War.
Whom all the Nations round with Terror view'd,
Nor durst their God-like Valour try,
Where-e'er they fought, they certainly subdu'd,
And ev'ry Combat gain'd a Victory.
Ah! where's the House of the Eternal King,
The beauteous Temple of the Lord of Hosts,
To whose large Treasuries our Fleets did bring
The Gold, and Jewels of remotest Coasts;
There had the Infinite Creator plac'd
His terrible, amazing Name:
And with his more peculiar Presence grac'd
That Heav'nly , where no Mortal came,
The  only, he but once a Year,
In that Divine Apartment might appear:
So full of Glory, and so sacred then,
But now corrupted with the Heaps of Slain,
Which scatter'd round with Blood, defile the mighty Fane.