But whence that shout? Good heavens! Amazement all! O God of hosts, the victory is thine! CHORUS OF CAPTIVES. Down with them, Lord, to lick the dust; Thy vengeance be begun; Serve them as they have served the just, FIRST PRIEST. RECITATIVE. All, all is lost. The Syrian army fails; FIRST AND SECOND PRIEST. AIR. O happy, who in happy hour, Such be her fate. But hark! how from afar Rise to transports past expressing, CHORUS OF VIRGINS. Cyrus comes, the world redressing, SEMI-CHORUS. Hail to him with mercy reigning, THE LAST CHORUS. But chief to Thee, our God, defender, friend, O Thou, without beginning, without end, |