Manfred (aside.) Blanche d’Arzaline, the flattered
and the lovely,
Wretched!—while I—
Guido. She died. I never knew my father's name;
I should have lothed the kindness which could leave
My mother desolate. And now, sweet Ianthe!
You know me without fortune, without name,
Are you mine still?
Ianthe. Guido, I swear to thee
By the blue heaven, the moon, the flowers, the skies,
By thy dear self, by love, I will be thine,
Most tenderly, most truly!
Guido. Then to-morrow,
When our own star looks on the pale twilight,
I'll meet thee here.
Count Manfred (discovering himself.)
No, no, she cannot be your bride,—her hand
Is promised. I will give you riches—land—
You shall be to me as a son; but swear
You will renounce her!
Guido. I would die for her,—
For you, her father,—any thing but leave her!
Manfred.
This is but vain romance. A soldier's sword,
The music of the trumpet, soon will drive
Love from your heart. We'll meet again to-morrow,
And I will be your friend. Ianthe, come.
lanthe. Guido! Oh my dear father!
Guido. You cannot leave me! By the many vows
Your lips have uttered and your eyes confirmed,
By all my love, by all the misery
That would live in your falsehood, oh be true!
Manfred. My curse is on your love!—
Guido. Oh, my Ianthe, I live but in you,
And I will win thee, through each obstacle
By tyranny or fortune raised, my own.
My best heart's treasure
