Alas! too well mine eyes indignant trace
The last remains of Judah's royal race: 20
Our monarch falls, and now our fears are o'er,
Unhappy Zedekiah is no more!
AIR.
Ye wretches who, by fortune's hate,
In want and sorrow groan;
Come ponder his severer fate, 25
And learn to bless your own.
You vain, whom youth and pleasure guide,
Awhile the bliss suspend;
Like yours, his life began in pride,
Like his, your lives shall end. 30
SECOND PROPHET.
RECITATIVE.
Behold his wretched corse with sorrow worn,
His squalid limbs with pond'rous fetters torn;
Those eyeless orbs that shock with ghastly glare,
Those ill-becoming rags -- that matted hair!
And shall not Heaven for this its terrors show, 35
Grasp the red bolt, and lay the guilty low?
How long, how long, Almighty God of all,
Shall wrath vindictive threaten ere it fall!
ISRAELITISH WOMAN.
AIR.
As panting flies the hunted hind,
Where brooks refreshing stray; 40
And rivers through the valley wind,
That stop the hunter's way:
Thus we, O Lord, alike distrest,
For streams of mercy long;
Those streams which cheer the sore opprest,
And overwhelm the strong.
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