Scherza in mar la navicella,
The little ship jokes around in the sea
Mentre ride aura seconda;
As the gentle breeze laughs;
Ma se poi fiera procella,
But if the proud storm
Turba il ciel, sconvolge l’onda,
Stirs up the sky, swells the waves,
Va perduta a naufragar.
It will be lost as a shipwreck.
Non così questo mio core
Not so will this heart of mine
Cederà d’un empia sorte,
Cede to an infamous fate,
Allo sdegno, ed al furore,
Of disdain, and of fury,
Che per anco in faccia a morte
Which, also facing death,
Sa da grande trionfar.
Knows to achieve great triumph.