Daria.
Blest! can such evil auguries bless?
And happy can that strange fate be
That gives this darksome cave to me
As monument of my sad life?
Music.
Yes.
Daria.
Oh! who before in actual woe
The happier signs of bliss could read?
Will not a fate so rigorous lead
To misery, not to rapture?—
Music.
No.
Daria.
O fantasy! unwelcome guest!
How can this cave bring good to me?
Music.
Itself will tell, when it shall be
Daria's tomb, her place of rest.