At the request of an anonymous commenter on LJ, here is "Ecco l'orrido campo . . . Ma dall'arido stelo" from Verdi's Un Ballo in Maschera.
Although she is married, Amelia has fallen in love with the royal governor, Riccardo. She goes for help to the fortune-teller Ulrica, who tells her that to eliminate her guilty passion, Amelia must pick a certain herb from the foot of the gallows at midnight. Arriving at the place, Amelia is terrified and finds herself strangely reluctant to pick the herb.
Although she is married, Amelia has fallen in love with the royal governor, Riccardo. She goes for help to the fortune-teller Ulrica, who tells her that to eliminate her guilty passion, Amelia must pick a certain herb from the foot of the gallows at midnight. Arriving at the place, Amelia is terrified and finds herself strangely reluctant to pick the herb.
Ecco l'orrido campo ove s'accoppia | Here is the dreadful field where |
Al delitto la morte! | death is matched with crime! |
Ecco là le colonne . . . | There are the gallows . . . |
La pianta è là, verdeggia al piè. S'inoltri. | The plant is there, it spreads green at the foot. Let me approach. |
Ah, mi si aggela il core! | Ah, my heart freezes! |
Sino il rumor de' passi miei, qui tutto | Even the sound of my own footsteps, everything here |
M'empie di raccapriccio e di terrore! | fills me with horror and dread! |
E se perir dovessi? | And if I must die? |
Perire! ebben quando la sorte mia, | To die! Very well, since it is my fate, |
Il mio dover tal è, s'adempia, e sia. | such is my duty, let it be fulfilled, and so be it. |
[Fa per avviarsi.] | [She is about to proceed.] |
Ma dall'arido stelo divulsa | But when that herb |
Come avrò di mia mano quell'erba, | has been torn from the dry stem by my hand, |
E che dentro la mente convulsa | and when in my feverish mind |
Quell'eterea sembianza morrà, | that heavenly image dies, |
Che ti resta, perduto l'amor . . . | what remains to you, once love is lost . . . |
Che ti resta, mio povero cor! | what remains to you, my poor heart! |
Ah! chi piange, qual forza m'arretra? | Ah! Who is weeping, what force holds me back? |
M'attraversa la squallida via? | Does the bleak path hinder me? |
Su, corraggio . . . e tu fatti di pietra, | Come, courage . . . and be made of stone, |
Non tradirmi, dal pianto ristà; | do not betray me, cease from tears; |
O finisci di battere e muor, | or cease beating and die, |
T'annienta, mio povero cor! | be annihilated, my poor heart! |
[S'ode un tocco d'ore. ] | [A bell is heard striking the hour.] |
Mezzanotte! . . . Ah, che veggio? Una testa | Midnight! . . . Ah, what do I see? A head |
Di sotterra si leva . . . e sospira! | rises from under the ground . . . and groans! |
Ha negli occhi il baleno dell'ira | Its eyes flash with anger |
E m'affisa e terribile sta! | and it stares at me and is terrifying! |
[Cade in ginocchio. ] | [She falls to her knees.] |
Deh! mi reggi, m'aita, o Signor, | Please guide me, help me, o Lord, |
Miserere d'un povero cor! | have mercy on a poor heart! |