Old man, should gall me, too? Must all conspire
Against me?——O thou beautiful spirit! wont
To shine upon my dreams with looks of love,
Where art thou vanish’d? Was it not the thought
Of thee which urged me to the fearful task,
And wilt thou now forsake me? I must seek
The shadowy woods again, for there, perchance,
Still may thy voice be in my twilight-paths;
—Here I but meet despair!
[Exit Vittoria.