Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE JEWISH PILGRIM, by FRANCES BROWNE



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THE JEWISH PILGRIM, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Are these the ancient holy hills
Last Line: Oh! Give the wanderer room.
Subject(s): Jews; Jews - Exodus From Egypt; Palestine; Pilgrimages & Pilgrims; Judaism


ARE these the ancient holy hills
Where angels walked of old?
Is this the land our story fills
With glory not yet cold?
For I have passed by many a shrine
O'er many a land and sea;
But still, oh! promised Palestine,
My dreams have been of thee.

I see thy mountain cedar green,
Thy valleys fresh and fair,
With summers bright as they have been
When Israel's home was there.
Tho' o'er thee sword and time have passed,
And cross and crescent shone,
And heavily the chain has pressed
Oh! they are still our own.

Thine are the wandering race that go
Unblest through every land,
Whose blood hath stained the polar snow,
And quench'd the desert sand.
And thine the home of hearts that turn
From all earth's shrines to thee
With their lone faith for ages born
In sleepless memory.

For throngs have fallen, nations gone
Before the march of time,
And where the ocean rolled alone
Are forests in their prime.
Since gentile ploughshares marr'd the brow
Of Zion's holy hill
Where are the Roman eagles now?
Yet Judah wanders still.

And hath she wandered thus in vain
A pilgrim of the past?
No! long deferred her hope hath been
But it shall come at last.
For in her wastes a voice I hear,
As from a prophet's urn,
It bids the nations build not there
For Jacob shall return.

Oh! lost and loved Jerusalem
Thy pilgrim may not stay
To see the glad earth's harvest home
In thy redeeming day.
But now resigned in faith and trust
I seek a nameless tomb;
At least beneath thy hallowed dust
Oh! give the wanderer room.





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