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ACT III.

Scene as before.

First PRIEST.

Recitative.

Yes, my companions, Heaven's decrees are past,
And our fix'd empire shall for ever last;
In vain the maddening prophet threatens woe,
In vain Rebellion aims her secret blow;

Still shall our fame and growing power be spread,
And still our vengeance crush the guilty head.

Air.

Coeval with man
Our empire began,
And never shall fall
Till ruin shakes all :
With the ruin of all
Shall Babylon fall.

PROPHET.

Recitative.

'Tis thus that pride triumphant rears the head,
A little while, and all her power is fled;
But ha! what means yon sadly plaintive train,
That this way slowly bends along the plain?
And now, methinks, to yonder bank they bear
A pallid corse, and rest the body there.
Alas! too well mine eyes indignant trace
The last remains of Judah's royal race:
Our monarch falls, and now our fears arc o'er,
And wretched Zedekiah is no more!

Air.

Ye wretches who, by fortune's hate,

In want and sorrow groan; Come ponder his severer fate, And learn to bless your own.

You vain, whom youth and pleasure guide,
Awhile the bliss suspend;

Like yours, his life began in pride,
Like his, your lives shall end.

Second PROPHET,

Behold his squalid corse with sorrow worn,
His wretched limbs with ponderous fetters torn;
Those eyeless orbs that shock with ghastly glare,
These ill-becoming rags-that matted hair.
And shall not Heaven for this its terrors show,
Grasp the red bolt, and lay the guilty low?'
How long, how long, Almighty God of all,
Shall wrath vindictive threaten ere it fall!

ISRAELITISH WOMAN.

Air.

As panting flies the hunted hind,
Where brooks refreshing stray;
And rivers through the valley wind,
That stop the hunter's way.

Thus we, O Lord, alike distrest,
For streams of mercy long;

Those streams which cheer the sore opprest,

And overwhelm the strong.

First PROPHET.

Recitative.

But, whence that shout? Good heavens! amazement all!

See yonder tower just nodding to the fall;

See where an army covers all the ground,

Saps the strong wall, and pours destruction round!

The ruin smokes, destruction pours along,

How low the great, how feeble are the strong!

The foe prevails, the lofty walls recline

O, God of hosts, the victory is Thine!

1 "And shall not Heaven for this its terror show,

And deal its angry vengeance on the foe?"-Orig. MS.

Chorus of ISRAELITES.

Down with them, Lord, to lick the dust;
Thy vengeance be begun :

Serve them as they have serv'd the just,

And let thy will be done.

First PRIEST.

Recitative.

All, all is lost. The Syrian army fails,
Cyrus, the conqueror of the world, prevails!
The ruin smokes, the torrent pours along,—
How low the proud, how feeble are the strong!
Save us, O Lord! to thee, though late, we pray,
And give repentance but an hour's delay.

First and Second PRIEST.

Thrice happy, who in happy hour
To heaven their praise bestow,
And own his all-consuming power
Before they feel the blow.

First PROPHET.

Recitative.

Now, now's our time! ye wretches bold and blind,
Brave but to God, and cowards to mankind;
Too late you seek that power unsought before,
Your wealth, your pride, your kingdom, are no more.

Air.

O, Lucifer, thou son of morn,

Alike of Heaven and man the foe;

Heaven, men, and all,

Now press thy fall,

And sink thee lowest of the low.

First PROPHET.

O, Babylon, how art thou fallen!

As the cause of writing the following printed poem called Retaliation has not yet been fully explained, a person concerned in the business begs leave to give the following just and minute account of the whole affair.

At a meeting of a company of gentlemen, who were well known to each other, and diverting themselves, among many other things, with the peculiar oddities of Dr. Goldsmith, who never would allow a superior in any art, from writing poetry down to dancing a hornpipe, the Dr. with great eagerness insisted upon trying his epigrammatic powers with Mr. Garrick, and each of them was to write the other's epitaph. Mr. Garrick immediately said that his epitaph was finished, and spoke the following distich extempore :

Here lies NOLLY Goldsmith, for shortness call'd Noll,
Who wrote like an angel, but talk'd like poor Poll.

Goldsmith, upon the company's laughing very heartily, grew very thoughtful, and either would not, or could not, write anything at that time: however, he went to work, and some weeks after produced the following printed poem called Retaliation, which has been much admired, and gone through several editions. The publick in general have been mistaken in imagining that this poem was written in anger by the Doctor; it was just the contrary; the whole on all sides was done with the greatest good humour; and the following poems in manuscript were written by several of the gentlemen on purpose to provoke the Doctor to an answer, which came forth at last with great credit to him in Retaliation.

D. GARRICK [MS.]. .

For this highly interesting account (now first printed, or even referred to, by any biographer or editor of Goldsmith) I am indebted to my friend Mr. George Daniel, of Islington, who allowed me to transcribe it from the original in Garrick's own handwriting discovered among the Garrick papers, and evidently designed as a preface to a collected edition of the poems which grew out of Goldsmith's trying his epigrammatic powers with Garrick. I may observe also that Garrick's epitaph or distich on Goldsmith is (through this very paper) for the first time printed as it was spoken by its author.

"Retaliation" was the last work of Goldsmith and a posthumous publication -appearing for the first time on the 18th of April, 1774.

See Art.

At the St. James's Coffee House in St. James's Street. "James's (St.) Coffee House," in Cunningham's Hand-Book of London. 2nd. ed. 1850, p. 254.

RETALIATION.

Or old, when Scarron' his companions invited,
Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united;
If our landlord' supplies us with beef, and with fish,
Let each guest bring himself-and he brings the best dish;
Our Dean' shall be venison, just fresh from the plains;
Our Burke' shall be tongue, with the garnish of brains;
Our Will' shall be wild fowl of excellent flavour,
And Dick with his pepper shall heighten the savour;
Our Cumberland's' sweet-bread its place shall obtain,
And Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain;
Our Garrick's' a sallad; for in him we see
Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree:
To make out the dinner, full certain I am,
That Ridge" is anchovy, and Reynolds" is lamb;

1 Paul Scarron, a popular French writer of burlesque. Died 1660.

2 The landlord of the St. James's coffee-house.

3 Thomas Barnard, then (1774) Dean of Derry; afterwards (1780) Bishop of Killaloe, and in 1794, Bishop of Limerick. He died in 1806, in his eightieth

year.

The Right Hon. Edmund Burke.

5 Mr. William Burke, a kinsman of Edmund Burke. Died 1798.

Mr. Richard Burke, a barrister, and younger brother of Edmund Burke. He died, Recorder of Bristol, in 1794.

7 Richard Cumberland, the dramatist. Died 1811.

John Douglas, a Scotchman by birth, then (1774) canon of Windsor; afterwards (1787) Bishop of Carlisle, and (1791) Bishop of Salisbury. He died in 1807.

David Garrick.

10 John Ridge, a member of the Irish bar.

Sir Joshua Reynolds.

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