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Thomas Campion

The first Booke of Ayres



1   As by the streames of Babilon,
Farre from our natiue soyle we sat,
Sweet Sion thee we thought vpon,
And eu'ry thought a teare begat.

2   Aloft the trees that spring vp there
Our silent Harps wee pensiue hung :
Said they that captiu'd vs, Let's heare
Some song which you in Sinn sung.

3   Is then the song of our God fit
To be prophan'd in forraine land ?
O Salem thee when I forget
Forget his skill may my right hand !

4   Fast to the roofe cleaue may my tongue
If mindelesse I of thee be found :
Or if when all my ioyes are sung
Ierusalem be not the ground.

5   Remember Lord how Edems race
Cryed in Ierusalems sad day,
Hurle downe her wals, her towres deface,
And stone and by stone all leuell lay.

6   Curst Babels seede for Salems sake
Iust ruine yet for thee remaines :
Blest shall they be thy babes that take,
And 'gainst the stones dash out their braines.


Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer