Wait while the priest repeats the air.
I’ve seen a black-wig’d Jove hurl down
A thunder-bolt along a wire,
To burn some distant canvass town,
Which—how vexatious!—won’t catch fire.
I’ve known a tyrant doom a maid
(With trills and roulades many a score)
To instant death! She, sore afraid,
Sings: and the audience cries ‘Encore!’
I’ve seen two warriors in a rage