Wine and beauty thus inviting,
Each to different joys exciting,
Whither shall my choice incline?
I'll waste no longer thought in choosing:
But, neither love nor wine refusing,
I'll make them both together mine.
But whence, when joy should brighten o'er the land,
This sullen gloom in Judah's captive band?
Ye sons of Judah, why the lute unstrung?
Or why those harps on yonder willows hung?
Come, take the lyre, and pour the strain along,
The day demands it; sing us Sion's song.
Dismiss your griefs, and join our warbling choir;
For who like you can wake the sleeping lyre!
Bow'd down with chains, the scorn of all mankind,
To want, to toil, and every ill consign'd,
Is this a time to bid us raise the strain,
And mix in rites that Heaven regards with pain?
No, never! May this hand forget each art
That speeds the power of music to the heart,
Ere I forget the land that gave me birth,
Or join with sounds profane its sacred mirth!
Insulting slaves! if gentler methods fail,
The whip and angry tortures shall prevail.
Why, let them come, one good remains to cheer;
We fear the Lord, and know no other fear.
First PRIEST.
Recitative.
No more! Too long has justice been delay'd;
The king's commands must fully be obey'd:
Compliance with his will your peace secures,
Praise but our gods, and every good is yours.
But if, rebellious to his high command,
You spurn the favours offer'd at his hand;
Think, timely think, what ills remain behind;
Reflect, nor tempt to rage the royal mind.
Fierce is the whirlwind howling
O'er Afric's sandy plain,
And fierce the tempest rolling
Along the furrow'd main:
But storms that fly,
To rend the sky,
Every ill presaging,
Less dreadful show
To worlds below
Than angry monarch's raging.
Ah, me! what angry terrors round us grow;
How shrinks my soul to meet the threaten'd blow!
Ye prophets, skill'd in Heaven's eternal truth,
Forgive my sex's fears, forgive my youth!
If shrinking thus, when frowning power appears,
I wish for life, and yield me to my fears.
Let us one hour, one little hour obey;
To-morrow's tears may wash our stains away.
To the last moment of his breath,
On hope the wretch relies;
And even the pang preceding death
Bids expectation rise.'
Hope, like the gleaming taper's light,
Adorns and cheers our way;
And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.'
1 "The wretch condemn'd with life to part,
Still, still on hope relies;
And every pang that rends the heart
Bids expectation rise."-Orig. MS.
2 "Fatigued with life, yet loth to part,
On hope the wretch relies;
And every blow that sinks the heart,
Bids the deluder rise.
"Hope, like the taper's gleamy light,
Adorns the wretch's way;
And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray."-Orig. MS.
At length for joy prepare,
and see compliance there.
Come raise the strain and grasp the full-ton'd lyre;
The time, the theme, the place, and all conspire.
First PRIEST.
Recitative.
But, hush! see foremost of the captive choir,
The master-prophet grasps his full-ton'd lyre.
Mark where he sits, with executing art,
Feels for each tone, and speeds it to the heart.
See inspiration fills his rising form,
Awful as clouds that nurse the growing storm;
And now his voice, accordant to the string,
Prepares our monarch's victories to sing.
From north, from south, from east, from west,
Conspiring foes shall 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,
Ere yonder setting sun;
Serve her as she has serv'd the just!
"Tis fix'd-it shall be done.
First PRIEST.
Recitative.
No more! when slaves thus insolent presume,
The king himself shall judge, and fix their doom.
Short-sighted wretches! have not you and all,
Beheld our power in Zedekiah's fall?
To yonder gloomy dungeon turn your eyes;
See where dethron'd your captive monarch lies,
Depriv'd of sight and rankling in his chain;
He calls on Death to terminate his pain.
Yet know, ye slaves, that still remain behind
More ponderous chains, and dungeons more confin'd.
Arise, all potent ruler, rise,
And vindicate thy people's cause;
Till every tongue in every land
Shall offer up unfeign'd applause.
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