I. br We sate down and wept by the waters br Of Babel, and thought of the day br When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters, br Made Salem's high places his prey; br And ye, oh her desolate daughters! br Were scattered all weeping away. br br II. br While sadly we gazed on the river br Which roll'd on in freedom below, br They demanded the song; but, oh never br That triumph the stranger shall know! br May this right hand be withered for ever, br Ere it string our high harp for the foe! br br III.