The Happy Captive An English Opera |
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| 9. | SCENE IX. |
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 | The Happy Captive |  |
SCENE IX.
Carlos, Zorayda.Carl.
May I on this fair Field of Snow,
Soft as the Cignet's Down,
And balmy as th'Arabian Breeze,
Repeat my Vows of lasting Faith,
And call the dear-lov'd Treasure mine?
Zoray.
Are you content to make it so?
And, at the Shrine, with solemn Rites,
Such as your Country's Laws prescribe,
To plight your constant Faith?
Carl.
Not Sickness wishes more for Health,
Thirst for the cooling Stream,
Than I for that transporting Hour.
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Then, I am yours.—
Carl.
All is Elysium round me;
The Lover's Wish, and Poet's Dream;
Rich golden Bow'rs, and Beds of Roses,
Sabean Groves, and ev'ry Sweet
Fond Nature pours to charm the Sense.
Whilst thus I gaze
On Beauty's Rays,
With sweet Surprize
My ravish'd Soul steals thro' my Eyes,
In killing Ecstasy.
On Beauty's Rays,
With sweet Surprize
My ravish'd Soul steals thro' my Eyes,
In killing Ecstasy.
So the Lightning's subtle Dart
Instant pierces to the Heart,
And, e're we feel our Wound, we dye.
Instant pierces to the Heart,
And, e're we feel our Wound, we dye.
Whilst thus I gaze, &c.
| The Happy Captive | |