 | The triumph of music |  |
She paus'd; while Marcellina sued for more,
Venusia turn'd towards the private door,
To see, if haply this delightful morn,
Whose lustre glitter'd upon every thorn,
Had lur'd the kind Manfredi from his cell,
To hear the matin song he lov'd so well:
As to that cell she cast a rapid glance,
Sudden she saw a Turkish form advance:
Young Marcellina shriek'd:—a firmer heart
Glow'd in Venusia, saying, “if thou art
A new assasin, by my father sent,
Strike but his daughter! I shall die content.”
Venusia turn'd towards the private door,
To see, if haply this delightful morn,
Whose lustre glitter'd upon every thorn,
Had lur'd the kind Manfredi from his cell,
To hear the matin song he lov'd so well:
As to that cell she cast a rapid glance,
Sudden she saw a Turkish form advance:
Young Marcellina shriek'd:—a firmer heart
Glow'd in Venusia, saying, “if thou art
A new assasin, by my father sent,
Strike but his daughter! I shall die content.”
| The triumph of music | |