Recitative
No, do not be troubled, oh Nice; I do not return
To speak to you of love. I know that you are sorry;
Enough of that. See that the sky threatens
A sudden tempest; to the sheds
You wish to withdraw your flock; I come only
To offer my charity. What! are you not afraid?
Observe that in moments
All the sky darkens, that the wind in a spiral
Stirs up the dust and the fallen leaves.
At the shuddering of the forest, at the uncertain flight
Of the bewildered birds, at these rare,
Wet drops, Which fall onto my/our face, 
Nice I foresee...Ah! did I not say, oh Nice,
Here is the lightning, here the thunder. Now what will you do?
Come, listen; where are you going? there is no longer time
To think of your flock. In this cave
Take refuge meanwhile: I will do so with you.

Aria
But you tremble, oh my treasure!
But you pound, my heart!
Fear not, I am with you,
Nor of love will I speak.
Among thunderbolts and lightning flashes
I will be with you, beloved Nice,
When the sky clears,
Ungrateful Nice, I will depart.