Samson with these inmixt, inevitably Pull'd down the same destruction on himself; The vulgar only 'scap'd who stood without.
Chor. O dearly bought revenge, yet glorious! Living or dying thou haft fulfill'd The work for which thou wast foretold To Ifrael, and now ly'st victorious
Among thy flain self-kill'd
Not willingly, but tangl'd in the fold, Of dire neceffity, whose law in death conjoin'd Thee with thy flaughter'd foes in number more
Than all thy life had flain before.
Semichor. While their hearts were jocund and sublime,
So fond are mortal men,
Fall'n into wrath divine,
As their own ruin on themselves t' invite,
Insensate left, or to sense reprobate,
And with blindness internal ftruck..
Of tame villatick Fowl; but as an Eagle His cloudless thunder bolted on their heads,
From out her ashy womb now teem'd, Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most
When most unactive deem'd,
And though her body die, her fame survives, A fecular Bird ages of lives.
Man. Come, come, no time for lamentation now, Nor much more cause; Samson hath quit himself. Like Samson, and heroickly hath finish'd
A life Heroick, on his Enemies
Fully reveng'd, hath left them years of mourning,
And lamentation to the Sons of Chaptor
Through all Philiftian bounds: To Ifrael Honour hath left, and freedom, let but them Find courage to lay hold on this occasion; To himself and Father's house eternal fame :
And which is best and happiest yet, all this
With God not parted from him, as was fear'd, But favouring and affifting to the end. Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breafts, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraife, or blame, nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death fo noble. Let us go find the Body where it lies Soak'd in his enemies blood, and from the stream With lavers pure and cleanfing herbs wash off The clodded gore. I with what speed the while 1730 (Gaza is not in plight to say us nay)
Will fend for all my kindred, all my friends To fetch him hence, and folemnly attend With filent obsequy and funeral train
Home to his father's house: there will I build him 1735 A Monument, and plant it round with fhade Of Laurel ever-green, and branching Palm, With all his Trophies hung, and Acts enroll'd In copious Legend, or sweet Lyrick Song. Thither shall all the valiant Youth refort, And from his memory inflame their breasts To matchless valour, and adventures high: The Virgins also shall on feaftful days Vifit his Tomb with flowers, only bewailing His lot unfortunate in nuptial choice, From whence captivity and loss of eyes.
Chor. All is best, though we oft doubt
Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns,
And all that band them to refift His uncontroulable intent,
His fervant he with new acquist
Of true experience from this great event
With peace and consolation hath dismist, And calm of mind all passion spent.
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