Behold his wretched corse with sorrow worn,
His squalid limbs by ponderous fetters torn;
Those eyeless orbs that shook with ghastly glare,
Those unbecoming rags, that matted hair!
And shall not Heaven for this avenge the foe,
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.
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 distress'd,
For streams of mercy long;
Streams which cheer the sore oppress'd,
And overwhelm the strong.
But whence that shout? Good heavens! Amazement all,
See yonder tower just nodding to the fall:
Behold, an army covers all the ground,
'Tis Cyrus here that pours destruction round:
And now, behold, the battlements recline-
O God of hosts, the victory is thine!
Down with them, Lord, to lick the dust;
Thy vengeance be begun;
Serve them as they have served the just,
And let thy will be done.
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.
O happy, who in happy hour
To God their praise bestow,
And own his all-consuming power
Before they feel the blow!
Now, now 's our time! ye wretches bold and blind,
Brave but to God, and cowards to mankind,
Ye seek in vain the Lord unsought before,
Your wealth, your lives, your kingdom, are no more!
O Lucifer, thou son of morn,
Of Heaven alike and man the foe-
Heaven, men, and all,
Now press thy fall,
And sink thee lowest of the low.
O Babylon, how art thou fallen!
Thy fall more dreadful from delay!
Thy streets forlorn
To wilds shall turn,
Where toads shall pant, and vultures prey.
Such be her fate. But hark! how from afar
The clarion's note proclaims the finish'd war!
Our great restorer, Cyrus, is at hand,
And this way leads his formidable band.
Give, give your songs of Sion to the wind,
And hail the benefactor of mankind:
He comes, pursuant to divine decree,
To chain the strong, and set the captive free.
Rise to transports past expressing,
Sweeter by remember'd woes;
Cyrus comes, our wrongs redressing,
Comes to give the world repose.
But chief to thee, our God, defender, friend,
Let praise be given to all eternity;
O Thou, without beginning, without end,
Let us and all begin and end in Thee!
LINES ATTRIBUTED TO DR GOLDSMITH,
INSERTED IN THE MORNING CHRONICLE OF APRIL 3, 1800
E'EN have you seen, bathed in the morning dew,
The budding rose its infant bloom display;
When first its virgin tints unfold to view,
It shrinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day:
So soft, so delicate, so sweet she came,
Youth's damask glow just dawning on her cheek; I gazed, I sigh'd, I caught the tender flame,
Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with passion weak.
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