Recitative Hamor l go. My soul, inspir’d by thy command, Thirsts for the battle. I’m already crown’d With the victorious wreath, and thou, fair prize, More worth than fame or conquest, thou art mine. Duet Iphis and Hamor These labours past, how happy we! How glorious will they prove, When gath’ring fruit from conquest’s tree, We deck the feast of love! These labours past. . . da capo
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