The shade, the gloom of death. Hither! Behold—
Around the sun a garland dusk—of blood!
Yet listen—dost not hear the shriek of birds
Of evil omen?—In the fatal air
A sadness broods, which heavy on my heart
Sinks and compels my tears.—But why weep you?
Jonathan.
Great God of Israel! is thy face withdrawn
Thus, from thy people’s king? him, once thy servant,
Leav’st thou to foes infernal?