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ÁÖ´Ù½º ¸¶Ä«º£¿ì½º Judas Maccabaeus HWV 63
Á¦ 2 ¸·
Fall'n is the foe; so fall Ty foes, O Lord,
Where warlike Judas wields his righteous sword!
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À̽º¶ó¿¤ ³²ÀÚ
Victorious hero! Fame shall tell,
With her last breath, how Apollonius fell,
And all Samaria fled, by thee pursued
Through hills of carnage and a sea of blood;
While thy resistless prowess dealt around,
With their own leader's sword, the deathful wound.
Thus, too, the haughty Seron, Syria's boast,
Before thee fell with his unnumber'd host.
¾Æ¸®¾Æ
À̽º¶ó¿¤ ³²ÀÚ
So rapid thy course is,
Not numberless forces
Withstand thy all-conquering sword.
Though nations surround thee,
No pow'r shall confound thee,
Till freedom again be restor'd.
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Oh, let eternal honours crown his name:
Judas, first worthy in the rolls of fame.
Say, "He put on the breast-plate as a giant,
And girt his warlike harness about him;
In his acts he was like a lion,
And like a lion's whelp roaring for his prey."
¾Æ¸®¾Æ
À̽º¶ó¿¤ ¿©ÀÚ
From mighty kings he took the spoil,
And with his acts made Judah smile.
Judah rejoiceth in his name,
And triumphs in her hero's fame.
ÇÕâ
Hail, hail, Judea, happy land!
Salvation prospers in his hand.
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ÁÖ´Ù½º ¸¶Ä«º£¿ì½º
Thanks to my brethren; but look up to Heav'n;
To Heav'n let glory and all praise be giv'n;
To Heav'n give your applause,
Nor add the second cause,
As once your fathers did in Midian,
Saying, "The sword of God and Gideon."
It was the Lord that for his Israel fought,
And this our wonderful salvation wrought.
¾Æ¸®¾Æ
ÁÖ´Ù½º ¸¶Ä«º£¿ì½º
How vain is man, who boasts in fight
The valour of gigantic might!
And dreams not that a hand unseen
Directs and guides this weak machine.
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O Judas, O my brethren!
New scenes of bloody war
In all their horrors rise.
Prepare, prepare,
Or soon we fall a sacrifice
To great Antiochus; from th'Egyptian coast,
(Where Ptolemy hath Memphis and Pelusium lost)
He sends the valiant Gorgias, and commands
His proud, victorious bands
To root out Israel's strength, and to erase
Ev'ry memorial of the sacred place.
¾Æ¸®¾Æ & ÇÕâ
À̽º¶ó¿¤ ¿©ÀÚ & À̽º¶ó¿¤ÀÎ
Ah! wretched, wretched Israel! fall'n, how low,
From joyous transport to desponding woe.
¼Ã¢
½Ã¸ó
Be comforted, nor think these plagues are sent
For your destruction, but for chastisement.
Heav'n oft in mercy punisheth, that sin
May feel its own demerits from within,
And urge not utter ruin. Turn to God,
And draw a blessing from His iron rod.
¾Æ¸®¾Æ
½Ã¸ó
The Lord worketh wonders
His glory to raise;
And still, as he thunders,
Is fearful in praise.
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My arms! Against this Gorgias will I go.
The Idumean governor shall know
How vain, how ineffective his design,
While rage his leader, and Jehovah mine.
¾Æ¸®¾Æ
ÁÖ´Ù½º ¸¶Ä«º£¿ì½º
Sound an alarm! Your silver trumpets sound,
And call the brave, and only brave, around.
Who listeth, follow: to the field again!
Justice with courage is a thousand men.
ÇÕâ
À̽º¶ó¿¤ÀÎ
We hear, we hear the pleasing dreadful call,
And follow thee to conquest; if to fall,
For laws, religion, liberty, we fall.
¼Ã¢
½Ã¸ó
Enough! To Heav'n we leave the rest.
Such gen'rous ardour firing ev'ry breast,
We may divide our cares; the field be thine,
O Judas, and your sanctuary mine;
For Sion, holy Sion, seat of God,
In ruinous heaps, is by the heathen trod;
Such profanation calls for swift redress,
If e'er in battle Israel hopes success.
¾Æ¸®¾Æ
½Ã¸ó
With pious hearts, and brave as pious,
O Sion, we thy call attend,
Nor dread the nations that defy us,
God our defender, God our friend.
¼Ã¢
Ye worshippers of God,
Down, down with the polluted altars, down.
Hurl Jupiter Olympius from his throne,
Nor reverence Bacchus with his ivy crown
And ivy-wreathed rod.
Our fathers never knew
Him, or his beastly crew,
Or, knowing, scorn'd such idol vanities.
À̽º¶ó¿¤ ¿©ÀÚ
No more in Sion let the virgin throng,
Wild with delusion, pay their nightly song
To Ashtoreth, yclep't the Queen of Heav'n.
Hence to Phoenicia be the goddess driv'n,
Or be she, with her priests and pageants, hurl'd
To the remotest corner of the world,
Ne'er to delude us more with pious lies.
ÀÌÁßâ
ÁÖ´Ù½º ¸¶Ä«º£¿ì½º & À̽º¶ó¿¤ ¿©ÀÚ
Oh, never, never bow we down
To the rude stock or sculptur'd stone.
We worship God, and God alone.
ÇÕâ
À̽º¶ó¿¤ÀÎ
We never, never will bow down
To the rude stock or sculptur'd stone.
We worship God, and God alone.