_Chorus._ Doubtless the people shouting to behold Their once great dread, captive and blind before them, Or at some proof of strength before them shown. 1475
_Manoa._ His ransom, if my whole inheritance May compass it, shall willingly be paid And numbered down. Much rather I shall choose To live the poorest in my tribe, than richest, And he in that calamitous prison left. 1480 No, I am fixed not to part hence without him. For his redemption all my patrimony, If need be, I am ready to forgo And quit. Not wanting him, I shall want nothing.
_Chorus._ Fathers are wont to lay up for their sons; 1485 Thou for thy son art bent to lay out all; Sons wont to nurse their parents in old age, Thou in old age car'st how to nurse thy son, Made older than thy age through eye-sight lost.
_Manoa._ It shall be my delight to tend his eyes, 1490 And view him sitting in the house, ennobled With all those high exploits by him achieved, And on his shoulders waving down those locks That of a nation armed the strength contained. And I persuade me, God had not permitted 1495 His strength again to grow up with his hair Garrisoned round about him like a camp Of faithful soldiery, were not his purpose To use him further yet in some great service— Not to sit idle with so great a gift 1500 Useless, and thence ridiculous, about him. And since his strength with eye-sight was not lost, God will restore him eye-sight to his strength.
_Chorus._ Thy hopes are not ill founded, nor seem vain, Of his delivery, and thy joy thereon 1505 Conceived, agreeable to a father's love, In both which we, as next, participate.
_Manoa._ I know your friendly minds and . . . oh, what noise! Mercy of Heaven! what hideous noise was that? Horribly loud, unlike the former shout. 1510
_Chorus._ Noise call you it, or universal groan, As if the whole inhabitation perished! Blood, death, and deathful deeds, are in that noise, Ruin, destruction at the utmost point.
_Manoa._ Of ruin indeed methought I heard the noise. 1515 Oh, it continues; they have slain my son!
_Chorus._ Thy son is rather slaying them; that outcry From slaughter of one foe could not ascend.
_Manoa._ Some dismal accident it needs must be. What shall we do—stay here or run and see? 1520