Mirza. Oh, Philamir! I am so cruelly racked
By sentiments I can not reconcile,
I know not whether this is joy or grief!
True, when I think of Philamir, the air
Seems charged with music, and the earth I tread
All flowers. When I remember Zeolide
I could go mad with sorrow!
Phil.Then, my love,
Think not of Zeolide!
Mirza.Ah, Philamir,