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Opera Libretti

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Dido and Aeneas
Act I
Act II
     Scene: The Palace
     [enter Dido, Belinda and train]
     Shake the cloud from off your brow,
     Fate your wishes does allow;
        Empire growing,
        Pleasures flowing,
     Fortune smiles and so should you.
     Banish sorrow, banish care,
     Grief should ne'er approach the fair.
     Ah! Belinda, I am prest
     With torment not to be Confest,
     Peace and I are strangers grown.
     I languish till my grief is known,
     Yet would not have it guest.
     Grief increases by concealing,
     Mine admits of no revealing.
     Then let me speak; the Trojan guest
     Into your tender thoughts has prest;
     The greatest blessing Fate can give
     Our Carthage to secure and Troy revive.
     When monarchs unite, how happy their state,
     They triumph at once o'er their foes and their fate.
     Whence could so much virtue spring?
     What storms, what battles did he sing?
     Anchises' valour mixt with Venus' charms
     How soft in peace, and yet how fierce in arms!
     A tale so strong and full of woe
     Might melt the rocks as well as you.
     What stubborn heart unmov'd could see
     Such distress, such piety?
     Mine with storms of care opprest
     Is taught to pity the distrest.
     Mean wretches' grief can touch,
     So soft, so sensible my breast,
     But ah! I fear, I pity his too much.
     [Repeated by Chorus]
     Fear no danger to ensue,
     The Hero Loves as well as you,
     Ever gentle, ever smiling,
     And the cares of life beguiling,
     Cupid strew your path with flowers
     Gather'd from Elysian bowers.
     [Aeneas enters with his train]
     See, your Royal Guest appears,
     How Godlike is the form he bears!
     When, Royal Fair, shall I be blest
     With cares of love and state distrest?
     Fate forbids what you pursue.
     Aeneas has no fate but you!
     Let Dido smile and I'll defy
     The feeble stroke of Destiny.
     Cupid only throws the dart
     That's dreadful to a warrior's heart,
     And she that wounds can only cure the smart.
     If not for mine, for Empire's sake,
     Some pity on your lover take;
     Ah! make not, in a hopeless fire
     A hero fall, and Troy once more expire.
     Pursue thy conquest, Love; her eyes
     Confess the flame her tongue denies.
     To the hills and the vales, to the rocks and the mountains
     To the musical groves and the cool shady fountains.
     Let the triumphs of love and of beauty be shown,
     Go revel, ye Cupids, the day is your own.


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1:21:56 PM, 26 November 2015
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