Lawrence Alma-Tadema, The meeting of Antony and Cleopatra, 1885
Ah, my maiden is going! she mounts the vessel! My monarch, Aeolus! Potentate dread! Keep ev’ry storm far away! “Oh, thou fool!” cried the god: “ne’er fear the blustering tempest; when Love flutters his wings, then mayst thou dread the soft breeze”.
Ah, la mia diletta parte, sale sulla nave! Mio re, Eolo! Possente sovrano! Trattieni le bufere! “Stolto!” Urla il dio – “Non temere la furia della bufera; temi la brezza, quando amore agita lieve le ali”.
