Page:Oriental Sketches Dramatic Sketches and Tales.pdf/248

Rh

Wooed by the song of young Romance To beauty's perfumed bower. And Bretagne's maids have witching arts, Beguiling mortal men; And starry eyes, and melting hearts Are found in bright Guienne. But my blush rose! my Provence rose! What can to thee compare? There's not a single flower that blows, So delicate, so fair!

There's many a sweet and sunny glance Beyond the sparkling Rhone, And rose-lipped maidens lead the dance Across the sun-kissed Soane, Oh! joyous are the festivals, The mirth and minstrelsy, With beauty smiling in the halls Of tower-crowned Normandy.