By John Donne
For the most part according to Tremelius
HOW sits this citie, late most populous
and like a widdow thus!
Amplest of Nations, Queen
e of Provinces
She was, who now this tributary is!
Still in the
night shee weepes, and her tear
Downe by her cheeks along, and
none of all
Her lovers comfort
have dealt, and now are enemie.
Unto great bondage
Juda is captive led; Those nation
With whom shee
dwells, no place of rest afford,
s shee meets her
Emptie are the gates of Sion, and her
Mourne, because none come to her solemn
Priests doe groane, her maides are comfortless
And shee's unto her
selfe a bitternesse.
Her foes are growne her head, and live
Because when her transgression
s did increase,
Lord strooke her with sadnesse: Th'enemie
Doth drive her children to
From Sions daughter
is all beauty gone,
Like Harts, which seeke for Pasture, and find none,
Princes are, and now before the foe
Which still pursues them, without
strength they go.
Now in her daies of Teares, Jerusalem
(Her men slaine by the foe, none succouring them)
what of old, shee esteem
Whilest her foes laugh at her, for
what she hath lost.
Jerusalem hath sinn'd, therefore is shee
Remov'd, as women in unclean
Who honor'd, scorne
her, for her foulnesse they
Have seene; her selfe doth groane, and
nesse in her skirts was
seene, yet she Remember
ed not her end; Miraculously
she fell, none comfort
O Lord my affliction, for the Foe
Upon all things where her delight hath beene,
The foe hath stretch'd his hand, for shee hath seene
whom thou command'st, should not doe so,
Into her holy Sanctuary goe.
And all her people
groane, and seeke for bread;
And they have given, only to be fed,
All precious things,
wherein their pleasure lay:
e I'am growne, O Lord, behold,
All this concern
s not you, who passe by mee,
O see, and marke if any sorrow bee
Like to my sorrow, which
Done to mee in the day of his fierce wrath?
That fire, which by himselfe is governed
cast from heaven on my bones, and spred
A net before my feet, and mee
And made me languish
all the day alone.
His hand hath of my sin
nes framed a yoake
wreath'd, and cast upon my neck, hath broke
My strength. The Lord unto
Hath given mee, from whom I cannot rise.
He under foot hath troden in my sight
men; He did company invite
To breake my young men; he the winepresse hath
Trod upon Juda's daughter
in his wrath.
things doe I weepe, mine eye, mine eye
Casts water out; For he which
should be nigh
To comfort mee, is now departed
prevailes, forlorne my children are.
There's none, though
do stretch out her hand,
her, it is the Lords
foes girt him. Jerusalem
as an uncleane woman amongst them.
But yet the
Lord is just, and righteous still,
I have rebell'd against his holy
O heare all people, and my sorrow see,
My maides, my
young men in captivitie.
I called for my lovers
then, but they
Deceiv'd mee, and my Priests, and Elders lay
Dead in the citie; for they sought for meat
refresh their soul
es, they could not get.
Because I am in
o'rturnd, my bowells muddy bee,
Because I have rebel
l'd so much, as fast
death within, doth wast.
Of all which heare I mourne, none
My foes have heard
my griefe, and glad they be,
That thou hast done it; But thy promis'd day
Will come, when,
as I suffer, so shall they.
Let all their wickednesse
appeare to thee,
Doe unto them, as thou
hast done to mee,
all my sinnes: The sigh
s which I have had
Are very many, and my heart