TYRRENO.
As Spring, attended by the laughing Hours,
After long storm is wont to reappear,
When the mild Zephyr, breathing through the bowers,
Brings back its former beauty to the year,
And goes enamelling the banks with flowers,
Blue, white, and red, all eyes and hearts to cheer;
So when returning Flerida is seen,
My heart too gladdens, and my hope grows green.
ALCINO.
Have ye the fury of the wind beheld,
When down the rough Sierra's crags it shoots,
How it hurls down the reverend rocks of eld,
And tears the quivering pines up by the roots,
Nor thus content, how with its pride upswelled,
It loudly with the frightful sea disputes?
Less fierce this rage is of the wind-borne Jove,
Than Phyllis angry at Alcino's love.
TYRRENO.
The vine and olive flourish; the green lea
Yields plenteous pasture for the flocks at morn;
Mountains the goats, the blossom feeds the bee,
And Ceres joys amidst the growing corn:
Where'er my Flerid looks, it seems to me
That generous Plenty pours forth all her horn;
But if she take away her smiling eyes,
The landscape weeps, and nought but briers arise.
ALCINO.
The field, the flock, with barrenness oppressed,
Pines fast away, each living thing conceives
Corruption, mildew—Ceres' fatal pest—
Poisons the grass and taints the wheaten sheaves;
The bird abandons its dismantled nest,
That was hedged in before with lively leaves;
But if sweet Phyllis chance to pass that way,
The flock revives, and all again looks gay.
TYRRENO.