That in the hour of danger blazes fear. [Exit.
CHORAL HYMN.
STROPHE I.
Well thou speakest; but unsleeping
Terrors shake my virgin frame,
And the blasts of war around me
Fan my fears into a flame.
As the dove her dovelets nursing,
Fears the tree-encircling serpent,
Fatal neighbour of her nest;
Thus the foe, our walls enclosing,