SCENE I. — JUDAS MACCABAEUS; CAPTAINS; JEWS.
JUDAS. Behold, our enemies are discomfited. Jerusalem is fallen; and our banners Float from her battlements, and o'er her gates Nicanor's severed head, a sign of terror, Blackens in wind and sun.
CAPTAINS. O Maccabaeus, The citadel of Antiochus, wherein The Mother with her Seven Sons was murdered, Is still defiant.
JUDAS. Wait.
CAPTAINS. Its hateful aspect Insults us with the bitter memories Of other days.
JUDAS. Wait; it shall disappear And vanish as a cloud. First let us cleanse The Sanctuary. See, it is become Waste like a wilderness. Its golden gates Wrenched from their hinges and consumed by fire; Shrubs growing in its courts as in a forest; Upon its altars hideous and strange idols; And strewn about its pavement at my feet Its Sacred Books, half burned and painted o'er With images of heathen gods.
JEWS. Woe! woe! Our beauty and our glory are laid waste! The Gentiles have profaned our holy places!
(Lamentation and alarm of trumpets.)
JUDAS. This sound of trumpets, and this lamentation, The heart-cry of a people toward the heavens, Stir me to wrath and vengeance. Go, my captains; I hold you back no longer. Batter down The citadel of Antiochus, while here We sweep away his altars and his gods.