Manoa: His ransom, if my whole inheritance
May compass it, shall willingly be paid
And numbered down. Much rather I shall choose
To live the poorest in my tribe, than richest,
And he in that calamitous prison left.
No, I am fixed not to part hence without him.
For his redemption all my patrimony,
If need be, I am ready to forego
And quit. Not wanting him, I shall want nothing.
It shall be my delight to tend his eyes,
And view him sitting in his house, ennobled
With all those high exploits by him achieved.
Chorus: Thy hopes are not ill founded, nor seem vain,
Of his delivery.
Manoa: I know your friendly minds, and—O what noise!
Mercy of Heaven! What hideous noise was that
Horribly loud, unlike the former shout.
Chorus: Noise call you it, or universal groan,
As if the whole inhabitation perished?
Blood, death, and deathful deeds, are in that noise,
Ruin, destruction at the utmost point.
Manoa: Of ruin indeed methought I heard the noise.
Oh! it continues; the have slain my son.
Chorus: Thy son is rather slaying them; that outcry
From slaughter of one foe could not ascend.
Manoa: Some dismal accident it needs must be.
What shall we do—stay here, or run and see?
Chorus: Best keep together here, lest, running thither,
We unawares run into danger's mouth.
This evil on the Philistines is fallen:
From whom could else a general cry be heard?
Manoa: A little stay will bring some notice hither.
Chorus: I see one hither speeding—
An Hebrew, as I guess, and of our tribe.