(The suites of Glory and Wisdom continue their rejoicing.)
CHORUS:
In the Temple of Memory,
May his name be forever engraved.
It was reserved to him
To unite Wisdom and Glory.
CURTAIN
ACT I
The stage represents a great public place ornamented with a triumphal arch.
PHENICIA:
In a day of triumph, in the midst of pleasures,
Who can inspire you with a somber sorrow?
Glory, grandeur, beauty, youth,
All these blessings fulfill your wishes.
SIDONIA:
You are lighting a fatal flame
That you will never feel the results of.
Love dares not trouble the peace
Which reigns in your soul.
PHENICIA AND SIDONIA:
Who has more appeal?
And who can be happy if you cannot?
PHENICIA:
If today, war makes its ravages feared,
It’s at the shores of Jordan they must halt.
Our tranquil shores
Have nothing to fear.
SIDONIA:
Hell, if need be, will take up arms for us,
And you know how to impose your rule on it.
PHENICIA:
Your eyes have need of only their own charms
To weaken Godfrey’s camp.
SIDONIA:
His most gallant warriors are defenseless against you,
Have fallen into your power.
ARMIDA:
I am not triumphing over the most valiant of them all.
Renaud, whom I hate so violently,
The indomitable Renaud escapes my wrath.
The whole enemy camp has become sensitive for me,
And he alone, still invincible.
Glory made him see me with an indifferent eye.
He’s in the loving years wherein,
Without effort one falls in love.
No, I cannot fail without extreme bitterness
To conquer a heart so proud and grand.
SIDONIA:
What does it matter
That a captive is lacking to your victory?
There are enough other witnesses to be seen in your chains.
And for one slave the less,
Such a beautiful triumph will lose little of its glory.
PHENICIA:
Why do you want to think about
That which can displease you?
It’s more certain to avenge oneself
By forgetting him than by rage.
ARMIDA:
Hell predicted a hundred times
That against this warrior our arms would be vain,
And that he would vanquish our greatest kings.
Ah! How sweet it would be to me to overwhelm him with chains,
And halt the course of his exploits.
How I hate him! How his scorn outrages me!
How proud he will be to avoid slavery
In which I hold so many other heroes.
Despite me, his importunate image
Ceaselessly troubles my repose.
A terrible dream inspires me with a new fury
Against this funereal enemy.
I thought I saw him; I trembled about it;
I thought he struck me with a mortal blow.
I fell at the feet of the cruel conqueror.
Nothing softened his severity
And, with an inconceivable charm,
I felt myself constrained to find him lovable,
In the fatal moment he was piercing my heart.
SIDONIA:
You trouble yourself with an ephemeral image
That sleep produced?
The nice day which shines on you
Ought to dissipate this vain chimera,
Just as it has destroyed
The shadows of the night.
(Hidraot and his suite enter.)
HIDRAOT:
Armida, that blood which joins me with you
Makes me sensitive to the cares
That are being taken to please you.
How sweet your triumph is to me!
How I love to see the fine day shine that illuminates it!
I will have no more wishes to make
If you choose a spouse.
I see nearby the death that threatens me,
And soon age, which will freeze me,
Is going to overwhelm me with its heavy burden.
It’s the last blessing to which I aspire,
To see your marriage promise to this empire
Kings formed from a blood so fine.
Without complaining of my fate, I will cease to live
If this sweet hope can follow me
Into the terrible night of the tomb.
ARMIDA:
The chain of marriage astonishes me.
I fear the most pleasant of bonds.
Ah! how unfortunate a heart becomes
When liberty abandons it!
HIDRAOT:
When you like it, all Hell is armed for you.
You are more cunning in my art than myself.
Great kings lay their diadems at your feet.
Whoever sees you for one moment is forever charmed.
Could you savor your extreme happiness better
Than with a spouse who loves you
And who is worthy of being loved?
ARMIDA:
At my pleasure, I unchain against my enemies
The black empire of Hell.
Love puts kings in my fetters.
I am the sovereign mistress of a thousand lovers.
But I do myself the greater grandeur
Of being mistress