IV.
Recitative.
Fir'd with the Sound, the King grew vain;
Fought all his Battles o'er again,
And thrice he routed all his Foes, and thrice he slew the Slain.
The Master saw the Madness rise,
His glowing Cheeks, his ardent Eyes;
And while he Heav'n and Earth defy'd,
He chose a mournful Muse,
Soft Pity to infuse;
Then thus he chang'd his Song, and check'd his Pride.
AIR.
See Darius Great and Good,
By too severe a Fate,
Fallen from his high Estate;
Behold his flowing Blood!
On Earth th'expiring Monarch lies,
With not a Friend to close his Eyes.