You vain, whom youth and pleasure guide,
A while the bliss suspend;
Like yours, his life began in pride,
Like his, your lives shall end.
Behold his wretched corse with sorrow worn,
His squalid limbs with ponderous fetters torn;
Those eyeless orbs that shock 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?
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:
Those streams which cheer the sore oppress'd,
And overwhelm the strong.
FIRST PROPHET.
Recitative.
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!
The ruin smokes, destruction pours along,
How low the great, how feeble are the strong!
And now, behold, the battlements recline-
O God of hosts, the victory is Thine!
CHORUS OF CAPTIVES.
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.
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 PRIESTS.
Oh, happy, who in happy hour
To God their praise bestow,
And own His all-consuming power,
Before they feel the blow.
SECOND PROPHET.
Recitative.
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 pride, your kingdom are no more!
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.
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 Zion to the wind,
And hail the benefactor of mankind :
He comes, pursuant to Divine decree,
To chain the strong, and set the captive free.
CHORUS OF YOUTHS.
Rise to transports past expressing,
Sweeter by remember'd woes;
Cyrus comes, our wrongs redressing,
Comes to give the world repose.
CHORUS OF VIRGINS.
Cyrus comes, the world redressing,
Love and pleasure in his train ;
Comes to heighten every blessing,
Comes to soften every pain.
Hail to him with mercy reigning,
Skill'd in every peaceful art ;
Who, from bonds our limbs unchaining,
Only binds the willing heart.
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!
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