Blondel’s Song.
The moonlight; sleeps low, on the hills of Provence;
The stars are all tracking, their paths in the sky:
How softly, and brightly, their golden orbs glance,
Where the long shining waves, of the silver Rhone lie
The tow’rs of De Courcy rise high in the beam,
From sky to earth trembling, so lustrous and pale,
Around them there dwells the deep hush of a dream,
And stilled is the murmur of River, and Gale.
There are groves in the moonlight, all sparkling with dew,