distinctly in their ears, and involuntarily they hushed their steps
upon the rich and odorous turf, as in a voice, though not powerful,
marvellously sweet and clear, and well adapted to the simple fashion of
the words and melody, she sang the following stanzas:--

Lay of the Lady of Provence.

1.

Ah, why art thou sad, my heart? Why
Darksome and lonely?
Frowns the face of the happy sky
Over thee only?
Ah me, ah me!
Render to joy the earth!
Grief shuns, not envies, Mirth;
But leave one quiet spot,
Where Mirth may enter not,
To sigh, Ah, me!--
Ah me.

2.

As a bird, though the sky be clear,
Feels the storm lower;
My soul bodes the tempest near,
In the sunny hour;
Ah me, ah me!
Be glad while yet we may!
I bid thee, my heart, be gay;