Beauty and majesty conspire to charm:
Behold the conqu'ror.
Zap. (r.c.) O, Barbarossa,
No more the pride of conquest e'er can charm
My widow'd heart. With my departed lord
My love lies buried!
Then turn thee to some happier fair, whose heart
May crown thy growing love with love sincere;
For I have none to give.
Bar. Love ne'er should die: