Which scene of woes, unknowing, we renew
And madly even those ills we fear pursue;
While Pharaoh laughs at our domestic broils,
And safely crowds his tents with nations' spoils.
Yet our fierce sanhedrim, in restless rage,
Against our absent hero still engage,
And chiefly urge, such did their frenzy prove,
The only suit their prince forbids to move;
Which till obtained they cease affairs of state,
And real dangers wave for groundless hate.