Joseph Friedlander, comp. The Standard Book of Jewish Verse. 1917.
By Judah Ha-Levi (Trans. Alice Lucas)Ode to Zion
A
To send forth greetings from thy sacred rock
Unto thy captive train,
Who greet thee as the remnants of thy flock?
Take thou on every side,
East, west, and south and north, their greetings multiplied.
Sadly he greets thee still,
The prisoner of hope who, day and night,
Sheds ceaseless tears, like dew on Hermon’s hill.
Would that they fell upon thy mountain’s height!
But when in fancy’s dream
I see thy freedom, forth its cadence flows,
Sweet as the harps, that hung by Babel’s stream.
My heart is sore distressed
For Bethel ever blessed,
For Peniel and each ancient, sacred place.
The holy presence there
To me is present, where
Thy Maker opes thy gates, the gates of heaven to face.
Thy sole and perfect light;
No need hast thou then, to illumine thee,
Of sun by day, or moon and stars by night.
I would that, where God’s spirit was of yore
Poured out upon thy holy ones, I might
There, too, my soul outpour.
The house of kings and throne of God wert thou,
How comes it then that now
Slaves fill the throne where sat thy kings before?
To seek the spots where, in far distant years,
The angels in their glory dawned upon
Thy messengers and seers?
Oh, who will give me wings
That I may fly away,
And there, at rest from all my wanderings,
The ruins of my heart among thy ruins lay?
Thy stones as precious gold.
And when in Hebron I have stood beside
My father’s tombs, then will I pass in turn
Thy plains and forest wide;
Until I stand on Gilead and discern
Mount Hor and Mount Abarim ’neath whose crest
Thy luminaries twain, thy guides and beacons rest.
Of dust are myrrh, thy streams with honey flow;
Naked and barefoot, to thy ruined fanes
How gladly would I go
To where the ark was treasured, and in dim
Recesses dwelt the holy cherubim.
In bitter wrath against cruel fate
That bids thy holy Nazirites to lie
In earth contaminate.
How can I make of meat or drink my care?
How can mine eyes enjoy
The light of day, when I see ravens tear
Thy eagle’s flesh, and dogs thy lion’s whelps destroy?
Away, thou cup of sorrow’s poisoned gall!
Scarce can my soul thy bitterness sustain,
When I Aholah unto mind recall.
Upon Aholibah I muse, thy dregs I drain.
Do love and grace unite!
The souls of thy companions tenderly
Turn unto thee; thy joy was their delight,
And weeping they lament thy ruin now.
In distant exile, for thy sacred height
They long, and towards thy gates in prayer they bow.
Thy flocks are scattered o’er the barren waste,
Yet do they not forget thy sheltering fold,
Unto thy garments’ fringe they cling, and haste
The branches of the palms to seize and hold.
Naught are they by thy light and right divine.
To what can be compared the majesty
Of thy anointed line?
To what the singers, seers, and the Levites thine?
The rule of idols fails and is cast down;
Thy power eternal is, from age to age Thy crown.
Eternally, and bless’d
Is he whom God has chosen for the grace
Within thy courts to rest.
Happy is he that watches, drawing near,
Until he sees thy glorious lights arise,
And over whom thy dawn breaks full and clear
Set in the orient skies.
But happiest he who, with exultant eyes,
The bliss of thy redeemed ones shall behold,
And see thy youth renewed as in days of old.