DAVID'S
Complaint
,
ii
Samuel
,
chap.
1.
MOURN
,
Judah
,
mourn
beneath
the
silent
Sky
,
And
pierce
the
Deserts
with
thy
midnight
Cry
.
See
Zion
,
conscious
of
her
failing
Powers
,
Heaves
from
her
Base
and
shakes
the
nodding
Bowers
.
For
their
lost
Sires
orphan'd
Babes
complain
,
And
Matrons
strike
their
widow'd
Breasts
in
vain
;
From
Street
to
Street
the
howling
Mourners
fly
,
Fear
on
their
Brows
and
Horror
in
their
Eye
.
For
why
,
her
Peers
are
wash'd
with
purple
Gore
:
Her
Princes
and
her
Monarch
is
no
more
:
Whom
not
the
sacred
Diadem
cou'd
shield
,
But
serv'd
to
swell
the
Horrors
of
the
Field
.
But
why
,
amongst
the
Heathen
doom'd
to
fall
?
Is
this
,
alas
,
the
End
of
mighty
Saul
?
Mourn
,
mourn
,
in
Silence
lest
Philistia
hear
,
Nor
let
our
Foes
behold
the
streaming
Tear
.
But
O
my
Friend
—
(
Ah
there
my
Sorrows
swell
)
Deny'd
the
Blessing
of
a
sad
Farewel
?
Whose
ruddy
Cheeks
confess'd
their
early
Prime
,
Nor
his
smooth
Brows
had
felt
the
Stroke
of
Time
.
He
was
my
Soul's
best
Pleasure
while
alive
,
And
is
he
blasted
?
—
then
do
I
survive
?
Ah
no
,
'tis
Death
and
aggravated
Woe
.
O
say
,
my
Heart
,
canst
thou
sustain
the
Blow
?
Ye
Nations
,
mourn
—
if
such
a
thing
cou'd
be
,
Till
Nature
too
shou'd
learn
to
grieve
,
like
me
:
Ye
smiling
Dames
,
your
gaudy
Robes
resign
,
And
suit
your
Garments
and
your
Griefs
to
mine
.
Go
,
hide
your
slighted
Beauties
from
the
Sun
,
While
down
your
Cheeks
the
streaming
Sorrows
run
.
Still
let
your
Eye-balls
waste
their
humid
Store
,
And
still
repeat
—
Your
Monarch
is
no
more
!
Be
thou
,
Gilboä
,
wrap'd
in
endless
Night
,
Nor
let
thy
Hills
behold
the
Beams
of
Light
.
Let
the
gay
Sun
to
thee
his
Rays
deny
,
While
rattling
Tempests
o'er
thy
Borders
fly
.
There
Judah's
Chief
lay
prostrate
on
the
Ground
,
And
there
my
Friend
receiv'd
the
mortal
Wound
.