Air.
From north, from south, from east, from west,
Conspiring nations come;
Tremble, thou vice-polluted breast;
Blasphemers, all be dumb.
The tempest gathers all around—
On Babylon it lies;
Down with her! down—down to the ground:
She sinks, she groans, she dies.
SECOND PROPHET.
Down with her, Lord, to lick the dust,
Before yon setting sun;
Serve her as she hath serv’d the just:
’Tis fix’d—it shall be done.
FIRST PRIEST.
Recitative.
No more! when slaves thus insolent presume,
The king himself shall judge, and fix their doom.
Short-sighted wretches! have not you and all
Beheld our power in Zedekiah’s fall?
To yonder gloomy dungeon turn your eyes—
See, where dethron’d your captive monarch lies;
Depriv’d of sight, and rankling in his chain,
See where he mourns his friends and children slain.
Yet know, ye slaves, that still remain behind
More ponderous chains, and dungeons more confin’d.
CHORUS.
Arise, All-potent Ruler, rise,
And vindicate thy people’s cause,—
Till every tongue, in every land,
Shall offer up unfeign’d applause.