'What now remains for me?

Oh! where shall weeping want repair
To ask for charity?

Too late in life for me to ask,

And shame prevents the deed,
And tardy, tardy are the times
To succor, should I need.
But all my wants, before I spoke,
Were to my mistress known;

She still relieved, nor sought my praise,
Contented with her own.

But every day her name I'll bless,

My morning prayer, my evening song,
I'll praise her while my life shall last,
A life that cannot last me long.'

SONG. BY A WOMAN.

Each day, each hour, her name I'll bless,
My morning and my evening song,
And when in death my vows shall cease,
My children shall the note prolong.

MAN SPEAKER.

The hardy veteran after struck the sight,
Scarr'd, mangled, maim'd in every part,
Lopp'd of his limbs in many a gallant fight,

Mute for a while, and sullenly distrest,

At last th' impetuous sorrow fired his breast:

Wild is the whirlwind rolling

O'er Afric's sandy plain,

And wide the tempest howling
Along the billow'd main:
But every danger felt before,

The raging deep, the whirlwind's roar,
Less dreadful struck me with dismay
Than what I feel this fatal day.

Oh, let me fly a land that spurns the brave,
Oswego's dreary shores shall be my grave;
I'll seek that less inhospitable coast,
And lay my body where my limbs were lost.

SONG. BY A MAN.- BASSO SPIRITUoso.

Old Edward's sons, unknown to yield,
Shall crowd from Cressy's laurell'd field,

To do thy memory right:

For thine and Britain's wrongs they feel,
Again they snatch the gleamy steel,
And wish th' avenging fight.

WOMAN SPEAKER.

In innocence and youth complaining,
Next appear'd a lovely maid;
Affliction, o'er each feature reigning,
Kindly came in beauty's aid:
Every grace that grief dispenses,
Every glance that warms the soul,
In sweet succession charms the senses,
While Pity harmonized the whole.

The garland of beauty,' 'tis thus she would say,

'No more shall my crook or my temples adorn; I'll not wear a garland — Augusta's away

I'll not wear a garland until she return. But, alas! that return I never shall see:

The echoes of Thames shall my sorrows proclaim, There promised a lover to come -but, ah me!

'Twas death 'twas the death of my mistress that

came.

But ever, for ever, her image shall last,

I'll strip all the Spring of its earliest bloom; On her grave shall the cowslip and primrose be cast, And the new-blossom'd thorn shall whiten her tomb.

SONG. BY A WOMAN.- PASTORALE.

With garlands of beauty the Queen of the May
No more will her crook or her temples adorn;
For who'd wear a garland when she is away,
When she is removed, and shall never return ?

On the grave of Augusta these garlands be placed,
We'll rifle the Spring of its earliest bloom,
And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast,
And the new-blossom'd thorn shall whiten her tomb.

CHORUS. ALTRO MODO.

On the grave of Augusta this garland be placed,
We'll rifle the Spring of its earliest bloom,
And there shall the cowslip and primrose be cast,
And the tears of her country shall water her tomb.

14*

SCENE-The Banks of the River Euphrates near Babylon.

ACT THE FIRST.

FIRST PROPHET.

YE captive tribes that hourly work and weep
Where flows Euphrates murmuring to the deep,
Suspend your woes a while, the task suspend,
And turn to God, your father and your
friend:

Insulted, chain'd, and all the world our foe,
Our God alone is all we boast below.

Air.

FIRST PROPHET.

Our God is all we boast below,

To him we turn our eyes;

*This was first printed from the original, in Dr. Goldsmith's own hand-writing, in the 8vo. edition of his Miscellaneous Works, published in 1820.

And every added weight of wo

Shall make our homage rise.

SECOND PROPHET.

And though no temple richly dress'd,
Nor sacrifice is here,

We'll make his temple in our breast,

And offer up a tear.

[The first stanza repeated by the CHORUS.

ISRAELITISH WOMAN.

That strain once more! it bids remembrance rise,
And brings my long-lost country to mine eyes:
Ye fields of Sharon, dress'd in flowery pride,
Ye plains where Kedron rolls its glassy tide,
Ye hills of Lebanon, with cedars crown'd,
Ye Gilead groves, that fling perfumes around, —
How sweet those groves! that plain how wondrous fair!
How doubly sweet when Heaven was with us there!

Air.

O Memory! thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain ;
To former joys recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain.

Hence, intruder most distressing!

Seek the happy and the free:

The wretch who wants each other blessing,

Ever wants a friend in thee.

SECOND PROPHET.

Yet why complain? What though by bonds confined?