First PROPHET. Air. 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. Second PROPHET. 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, To yonder gloomy dungeon turn your eyes; See where he mourns his friends and children slain. More pond'rous chains, and dungeons more confin'd. Yes, my companions, Heaven's decrees are past, Still shall our fame and growing power be spread, Air. Coeval with man Till ruin shakes all: When ruin shakes all Then shall Babylon fall. First PROPHET. Recitative. 'Tis thus that pride triumphant rears the head, A little while, and all their power is fled; But ha! what means yon sadly plaintive train, Our monarch falls, and now our fears are o'er, 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, Like yours, his life began in pride, Like his, your lives shall end. Second PROPHET. Behold his wretched corse with sorrow worn, ISRAELITISH WOMAN. Air. As panting flies the hunted hind, Thus we, O Lord, alike distrest, Those streams which cheer the sore opprest, 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! How low the great, how feeble are the strong! The foe prevails, the lofty walls recline O, God of hosts, the victory is thine! First PRIEST. Recitative. All, all is lost. The Syrian army fails, First and Second PRIEST. Thrice happy, who in happy hour First PROPHET. Recitative. Now, now's our time! ye wretches bold and blind, Too late you seek that power unsought before, 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. |