NAAMAN: 
    This robber fell upon my camp by night,—­
    While I was with Elisha at the Jordan,—­
    Slaughtered my soldiers, carried off the maid,
    And holds her somewhere in imprisonment. 
    O give this jewel back to me, my King,
    And I will serve thee with a grateful heart
    For ever.  I will fight for thee, and lead
    Thine armies on to glorious victory
    Over all foes!  Thou shalt no longer fear
    The host of Asshur, for thy throne shall stand
    Encompassed with a wall of dauntless hearts,
    And founded on a mighty people’s love,
    And guarded by the God of righteousness.

BENHADAD: 
    I feel the flame of courage at thy breath
    Leap up among the ashes of despair. 
    Thou hast returned to save us!  Thou shalt have
    The maid; and thou shalt lead my host again! 
    Priest, I command you give her back to him.

REZON: 
    O master, I obey thy word as thou
    Hast ever been obedient to the voice
    Of Rimmon.  Let thy fiery captain wait
    Until the sacrifice has been performed,
    And he shall have the jewel that he claims. 
    Must we not first placate the city’s god
    With due allegiance, keep the ancient faith,
    And pay our homage to the Lord of Wrath?

BENHADAD:  [Sinking back upon his throne in fear.]
    I am the faithful son of Rimmon’s House,—­
    And lo, these many years I worship him! 
    My thoughts are troubled,—­I am very old,
    But still a King!  O Naaman, be patient! 
    Priest, let the sacrifice be offered.

[The High Priest lifts his rod.  Gongs and cymbals
sound.  The curtain is rolled back, disclosing
the image of Rimmon; a gigantic and hideous idol,
with a cruel human face, four horns, the mane of
a lion, and huge paws stretched in front of him
enclosing a low altar of black stone.  RUAHMAH
stands on the altar, chained, her arms are bare
and folded on her breast.  The people prostrate
themselves in silence, with signs of astonishment
and horror.]

REZON: 
    Behold the sacrifice!  Bow down, bow down!

NAAMAN:  [Stabbing him.]
    Bow thou, black priest!  Down,—­down to hell! 
    Ruahmah! do not die!  I come to thee.

[NAAMAN rushes toward her, attacked by the priests,
crying “Sacrilege!  Kill him!” But the soldiers
stand on the steps and beat them back.  He springs
upon the altar and clasps her by the hand.  Tumult
and confusion.  The King rises and speaks with a
loud voice, silence follows.]

BENHADAD: 
    Peace, peace!  The King commands all weapons down! 
    O Naaman, what wouldst thou do?  Beware
    Lest thou provoke the anger of a god.

NAAMAN: 
    There is no God but one, the Merciful,
    Who gave this perfect woman to my soul
    That I might learn through her to worship Him,
    And know the meaning of immortal Love.