ISRAELITISH WOMAN.
Air.
As panting flies the hunted hind,
Where brooks refreshing stray;
And rivers through the valley wind,
That stop the hunter’s way:
Thus we, O Lord, alike distrest,
For streams of mercy long;
Streams which can cheer the sore-opprest,
And overwhelm the strong.
FIRST PROPHET.
Recitative.
But, whence that shout? Good heavens! Amazement all!
See yonder tower just nodding to the fall:
Behold, an army covers all the ground;
’Tis Cyrus here that pours destruction round:
The ruin smokes, the torrent pours along—
How low the great, how feeble are the strong!
And now, behold, the battlements recline—
O God of hosts, the victory is Thine!
CHORUS OF ISRAELITES.
Down with her, Lord, to lick the dust—
Thy vengeance be begun;
Serve her as she hath serv’d the just:
And let Thy will be done.
FIRST PRIEST.