Fierce is the whirlwind howling 15
O’er Afric’s sandy plain,
And fierce the tempest rolling
Along the furrow’d main:
But storms that fly,
To rend the sky, 20
Every ill presaging,
Less dreadful show
To worlds below
Than angry monarch’s raging.
GOLDSMITH’S AUTOGRAPH
(Stanzas from ‘The Captivity’)
ISRAELITISH WOMAN.
RECITATIVE.
Ah, me! What angry terrors round us grow; 25
How shrinks my soul to meet the threaten’d blow!
Ye prophets, skill’d in Heaven’s eternal truth,
Forgive my sex’s fears, forgive my youth!
If, shrinking thus, when frowning power appears,
I wish for life, and yield me to my fears. 30
Let us one hour, one little hour obey;
To-morrow’s tears may wash our stains away.
AIR.
To the last moment of his breath
On hope the wretch relies;
And e’en the pang preceding death 35
Bids expectation rise.
Hope, like the gleaming taper’s light,
Adorns and cheers our way;
And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray. 40
SECOND PRIEST. RECITATIVE.
Why this delay? At length for joy prepare;
I read your looks, and see compliance there.
Come on, and bid the warbling rapture rise,
Our monarch’s fame the noblest theme supplies.
Begin, ye captive bands, and strike the lyre, 45
The time, the theme, the place, and all conspire.