 | Timoleon |  |
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Scene III.
—A Street in Corinth.Time, early morning.
Chorus.
Ho! give ear and come forth at the voice of our calling!
Ho! awake ye, by slumber possessed!
Ye who dwell in the land where the water-floods falling
Mingle murmurs from east shore and west:
Naught appalling
We bear in our bosom to utter, who summon you forth from your rest.
Ho! awake ye, by slumber possessed!
Ye who dwell in the land where the water-floods falling
Mingle murmurs from east shore and west:
Naught appalling
We bear in our bosom to utter, who summon you forth from your rest.
On the rock of your god, lo! the sunlight is burning
Newly risen, springing swift from the sea!
But with brighter new birth to your sister returning,
Long-fettered, at last to be free:
With what yearning
Of soul have I watched, have I waited, O dawn of her freedom, for thee!
Newly risen, springing swift from the sea!
But with brighter new birth to your sister returning,
Long-fettered, at last to be free:
With what yearning
Of soul have I watched, have I waited, O dawn of her freedom, for thee!
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But, behold! him who robed himself red with the slaughters
Of sons whom her bosom had borne,
With the garment of slavery girdled her daughters,
And with moanings from night until morn,
Winds and waters
Waft safe to his uttermost refuge of anguish and exile and scorn!
Of sons whom her bosom had borne,
With the garment of slavery girdled her daughters,
And with moanings from night until morn,
Winds and waters
Waft safe to his uttermost refuge of anguish and exile and scorn!
With the seed of the serpent from of old she had striven;
In the folds of his might she had lain;
And she cried to the earth, but no answer was given,
Nor none succoured her calling in vain,
Till from heaven
Fell a bolt that was born of a woman, and slew it, and behold it was slain!
In the folds of his might she had lain;
And she cried to the earth, but no answer was given,
Nor none succoured her calling in vain,
Till from heaven
Fell a bolt that was born of a woman, and slew it, and behold it was slain!
Not with pomp on his path, not with triumph or treasures,
Not with victims to torture or slay,
Not with singing of songs or with treading of measures,
Shall a king come to Corinth to-day:
All the pleasures,
The lusts and fruition of kingship, are past and are perished for aye.
Not with victims to torture or slay,
Not with singing of songs or with treading of measures,
Shall a king come to Corinth to-day:
All the pleasures,
The lusts and fruition of kingship, are past and are perished for aye.
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With the joy of the lyre dies the light of the jewel;
All the garlands lie withered and stark:
But the hate is still strong in the heart of the cruel,
Though the house of his feasting be dark:
Yea for fuel
It shall pierce through body and spirit, and burn to the uttermost spark.
All the garlands lie withered and stark:
But the hate is still strong in the heart of the cruel,
Though the house of his feasting be dark:
Yea for fuel
It shall pierce through body and spirit, and burn to the uttermost spark.
And the fox from the north laying wait for the plunder,
And the lion-cub ready to rend,
Let them flee upon ships o'er the sea-waves that sunder,
Ere they fall by the swords that defend,
Ere they founder
Thrust down to the depths of the ocean, and brought to a terrible end.
And the lion-cub ready to rend,
Let them flee upon ships o'er the sea-waves that sunder,
Ere they fall by the swords that defend,
Ere they founder
Thrust down to the depths of the ocean, and brought to a terrible end.
For in dreams I beheld, and one rose to deliver;
Round his loins was for girdle a chain;
And the voice of his mouth made the mountains to quiver,
At the sound thereof armies were slain;
And a river
Ran deep from the storm of the battle, and red with an ominous rain.
Round his loins was for girdle a chain;
And the voice of his mouth made the mountains to quiver,
At the sound thereof armies were slain;
And a river
Ran deep from the storm of the battle, and red with an ominous rain.
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Yea, the cruel shall cease; their foundation shall crumble;
From of old 'twas revealed to the wise;
They that stablish their throne on the necks of the humble,
Drunk with vanity, feasted with lies,
When they stumble,
The staff of their pride shall not aid them; they are fallen; they shall not arise.
From of old 'twas revealed to the wise;
They that stablish their throne on the necks of the humble,
Drunk with vanity, feasted with lies,
When they stumble,
The staff of their pride shall not aid them; they are fallen; they shall not arise.
O fair city of freemen, by tyrant untaken,
Resting safe 'neath the rock of thy might,
Lift thy voice! for thy sister, even she the forsaken,
Long captive, left sighing for the light,
Doth awaken
To more than the day's reappearing, and from shades that were darker than night.
Resting safe 'neath the rock of thy might,
Lift thy voice! for thy sister, even she the forsaken,
Long captive, left sighing for the light,
Doth awaken
To more than the day's reappearing, and from shades that were darker than night.
Corinthian Woman.
O beloved! my heart throbs for wonder:
What is this? what new theme that ye sing?
Chorus.
'Tis of chains that are broken in sunder,
Which we cast round the neck of a king.
Corinthian Woman.
Nay, what jubilant strains for sad ditties?
What smiles for old tears that ye shed?
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'Tis for Syracuse, saddest of cities,
Rearisen from the gates of the dead.
Corinthian Woman.
Are ye wanton that mock at your sorrow,
Ere the tide of its anguish be turned?
Chorus.
In the east marked ye not the new morrow?
Looking westward was naught ye discerned?
Corinthian Woman.
How should dawn melt the mist of my doubting?
How should Hope set her sign in the sky?
Chorus.
By the voices of them that are shouting,
Lo! the hour of deliverance is nigh!
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