UGOLINO.
ACT I.
SCENE I.—An Apartment at the Marquis de Serassi's.
Enter Serassi and Caliari, r.
Ser. Joy! give me joy! my friend, my Caliari:
To-morrow's eve, makes fair Olympia mine!
Cali. I do most heartily! you have but newly
Obtain'd this promise from her, then?
Ser. This morn,
This happy, happy morn! O! my dear friend,
What a rich treasure shall I hold in her!
She moves upon the earth like some blest spirit,
Diffusing light and love o'er all she looks on!
Her glossy ringlets o'er her polish'd brow,
Cluster, like golden vines around the shaft
Of some unspotted column—Like twin suns
O'er the fair Heaven of her cheek, her eyes
Shed matchless lustre!—Through her parted lips,
Sweet as the scented gales of Araby,
Her breath steals o'er the sense, divine proportion
Dwells in her form, graceful as poets feign
The Queen of Beauty's, when she smiling rose,
Bright as the day star from her purple wave.
Yet, these are poor possessions, when compared,
To her still lovelier mind.—O, Caliari!
I scarce can rule my bosom's extacy,
When I do think to-morrow makes her mine.
Cali. 'Tis well I know the lady, or this sketch
Might seem the o'ercharg'd picture of your dotage,
A lover's eye doth magnify each charm,
Whilst it o'erpasses failings which might blur
A Dian's image. But your praise, Serassi,
Although it wrong her not, is not too o'erstrain'd.
If ere perfection wore a woman's form.
Thou wilt possess it in Bertoldi's daughter.
Ser. Joy! give me joy! my friend, my Caliari:
To-morrow's eve, makes fair Olympia mine!
Cali. I do most heartily! you have but newly
Obtain'd this promise from her, then?
Ser. This morn,
This happy, happy morn! O! my dear friend,
What a rich treasure shall I hold in her!
She moves upon the earth like some blest spirit,
Diffusing light and love o'er all she looks on!
Her glossy ringlets o'er her polish'd brow,
Cluster, like golden vines around the shaft
Of some unspotted column—Like twin suns
O'er the fair Heaven of her cheek, her eyes
Shed matchless lustre!—Through her parted lips,
Sweet as the scented gales of Araby,
Her breath steals o'er the sense, divine proportion
Dwells in her form, graceful as poets feign
The Queen of Beauty's, when she smiling rose,
Bright as the day star from her purple wave.
Yet, these are poor possessions, when compared,
To her still lovelier mind.—O, Caliari!
I scarce can rule my bosom's extacy,
When I do think to-morrow makes her mine.
Cali. 'Tis well I know the lady, or this sketch
Might seem the o'ercharg'd picture of your dotage,
A lover's eye doth magnify each charm,
Whilst it o'erpasses failings which might blur
A Dian's image. But your praise, Serassi,
Although it wrong her not, is not too o'erstrain'd.
If ere perfection wore a woman's form.
Thou wilt possess it in Bertoldi's daughter.
