Note 4 — Chapter IV
Reading edition
When tremblingly I raise my eyes To view that form, which in my breast The hand of Love has deep impressed, My shiv'ring frame, in sudden trance, Congeals beneath thy lightning glance; But soon my heart, in broken sighs, Renews the tale it told before, And, counting all thy beauties o'er, Dwells on thy talents, virtues rare, Thy mind so pure, thy form so fair, Till even hope amid the whispers dies.
N. B. Freezing beneath a lightning glance, in the original—a fair example of Italian concetti.