''Tis singular! but when I am thus alone at this still hour, I ever
fancy I gaze upon the Land of Promise. And often, in my dreams, some
sunny spot, the bright memorial of a roving hour, will rise upon my
sight, and, when I wake, I feel as if I had been in Canaan. Why am I
not? The caravan that bears my uncle's goods across the Desert would
bear me too. But I rest here, my miserable life running to seed in
the dull misery of this wretched city, and do nothing. Why, the old
captivity was empire to our inglorious bondage. We have no Esther now
to share their thrones, no politic Mordecai, no purple-vested Daniel. O
Jerusalem, Jerusalem! I do believe one sight of thee would nerve me
to the sticking-point. And yet to gaze upon thy fallen state, my uncle
tells me that of the Temple not a stone remains. 'Tis horrible. Is there
no hope?'
'_The bricks are fallen, but we will rebuild with marble; the sycamores
are cut down, but we will replace them with cedars._'
'The chorus of our maidens, as they pay their evening visit to the
fountain's side.[5] The burden is prophetic.
'Hark again! How beautifully, upon the soft and flowing air, their sweet
and mingled voices blend and float!'
'_YET AGAIN I WILL BUILD THEE, AND THOU SHALT BE BUILT, O VIRGIN OF
ISRAEL! YET AGAIN SHALT THOU DECK THYSELF WITH THY TABRETS, AND GO
FORTH IN THE DANCE OF THOSE THAT MAKE MERRY.
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