Pompe vane di morte!

English Libretto or Translation:

Bertarido dressed in a Hungarian habit, and to him Unulfo.

Bertarido
Vain pomp of death!
O flatt`ring lamentation, lying grief, thus to
preserve my image and my name
only to swell the lofty conquerors pride!
Our vain inscriptions here proclaim me dead,
alas my grief tell me, too sure, I am not,
no, I am worse than dead.
Reads the inscription on his tomb
“Bertarido was King, but he, subdued by Grimaldo, fled -
`mongst the Hunns he died.
Rest to his soul, and to his ashes peace.”
Peace to my ashes! O je tyrant stars!
Why thus, it seems then, ever while I live,
till I, indeed, am ashes, till the last breath
wings from these lips must I wage weary war
with endless hardships, and perpetual wrongs.
Where art thou, o my lovely treasure,
come, thy husband to condole,
bring some comfort, bring some pleasure,
balm to ease a wearied soul.
dead oppressed with pains I languish,
there’s no balm to cure the anguish
till those eyes I see again.
But when I see those radiant eyes,
I’ll dry my own, and cease my cries
and own the blessing cures the pain.
But bless ye gracious heavens, Unulfo comes.
Let me, thou good, thou truly loyal man
thus with these circling arms...
(Going to embrace him)