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Mark where he sits, with executing art,
Feels for each tone, and speeds it to the heart;
See, how prophetic rapture fills his form,
From north, from south, from east, from west,
Conspiring nations come:
Tremble, thou vice-polluted breast
Blasphemers, all be dumb.
The tempest gathers all around,
On Babylon it lies,
Down with her! down, down to the ground
She sinks, she groans, she dies.
Down with her, Lord, to lick the dust,
Serve her as she has served the just!
'Tis fix'd-it shall be done.
No more! when slaves thus insolent presume,
To yonder gloomy dungeon turn your eyes:
See where he mourns his friends and children slain.
Arise, all potent ruler, rise,
And vindicate thy people's cause,
ACT THE THIRD.
Yes, my companions, Heaven's decrees are pass'd,
Still shall our name and growing power be spread,
Coeval with man
Till ruin shakes all.
When ruin shakes all,
Then shall Babylon fall,
'Tis thus the proud triumphant rear the head-
Ye wretches who by fortune's hate
In want and sorrow groan—
Ye vain, whom youth and pleasure guide,
Like yours, his life began in pride-
Behold his wretched corse with sorrow worn,
As panting flies the hunted hind,
Thus we, O Lord, alike distress'd,
For streams of mercy long;
Streams which can cheer the sore oppress'd,
And overwhelm the strong.
But whence that shout? Good heavens! Amazement all!
CHORUS OF ISRAELITES.
Down with her, Lord, to lick the dust—
Thy vengeance be begun;
Serve her as she has served the just,
And let thy will be done.
All, all is lost! The Syrian army fails,
Cyrus, the conqueror of the world, prevails.
And give repentance but an hour's delay.