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Enter CHALDEAN PRIESTS, attended.


Come on, my companions, the triumph display;
Let rapture the minutes employ;

The sun calls us out on this festival day,
And our monarch partakes of our joy.

Second PRIEST.

Like the sun, our great monarch all pleasure supplies;
Both similar blessings bestow;

The sun with his splendour illumines the skies,
And our monarch enlivens below.

Chaldean WOMAN.


Haste, ye sprightly sons of pleasure;
Love presents its brightest treasure,
Leave all other joys for me.


Or rather Love's delights despising,
Haste to raptures ever rising;

Wine shall bless the brave and free.

Second PRIEST.

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!

First PRIEST. Insulting slaves! if gentler methods fail, The whip and angry tortures shall prevail. [Exeunt CHALDEANS.


Why, let them come, one good remains to cheer; We fear the Lord, and know no other fear.


Can whips or tortures hurt the mind
On God's supporting breast reclin'd?
Stand fast, and let our tyrants see,
That fortitude is victory.



Scene as before..


O Peace of Mind, angelic guest!

Thou soft companion of the breast!

Dispense thy balmy store.

Wing all our thoughts to reach the skies,
Till earth, diminish'd to our eyes,

Shall vanish as we soar.



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.

Second PRIEST.


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
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.1

Hope, like the gleaming taper's light,
Adorns and cheers our way;
And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.2

Second PRIEST.


Why this delay? At length for joy prepare;
I read your looks, and see compliance there.
Come raise the strain and grasp the full-ton'd lyre;
The time, the theme, the place, and all conspire.

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.

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