On the Day of the Destruction of Jerusalem by Titus 1   From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome,   I beheld thee, Oh Sion! when rendered to Rome:      ’Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall      Flash’d back on the last glance I gave to thy wall. 2   I look’d for thy temple, I look’d for my home,   And forgot for a moment my bondage to come;      I beheld but the death-fire that fed on thy fane,      And the fast-fetter’d hands that made vengeance in vain. 3   Oh many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed   Had reflected the last beam of day as it blazed;      While I stood on the height, and beheld the decline      Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy shrine. 4   And now on that mountain I stood on that day,   But I marked not the twilight beam melting away;      Oh! would that the lightning had glared in its stead,      And the thunderbolt burst on the conqueror’s head! 5   But the Gods of the Pagan shall never profane   The shrine where Jehovah disdain’d not to reign;      And scattered and scorn’d as thy people may be,      Our worship, oh Father! is only for thee.