“We’d climb the turret-stair, my prince and I, And gladly throw the crown and mantle by. And would it not be blissful with my love, Aloft, alone to sit, the world above? Or, leaned upon the parapet by his side, To search the lovely landscape far and wide, “Our own glad kingdom of Provence descrying, Like some great orange-grove beneath us lying All fair? And, ever stretching dreamily Beyond the hills and plains, the sapphire sea; While noble ships, tricked out with streamers gay, Just graze the Chateau d’If, and pass away? “Or we would turn to lightning-scathed Ventour, Who, while the lesser heights before him cower, His hoary head against the heaven raises, As I have seen, in solitary places Of beech and pine, with staff in agèd hand, Some shepherd-chief, his flock o’erlooking, stand. “Again, we’d follow the great Rhone awhile, Adown whose banks the cities brave defile, And dip their lips and drink, with dance and song. Stately is the Rhone’s march, and very strong; But even he must bend at Avignon His haughty head to Notre Dame des Doms. “Or watch the ever-varying Durance, Now like some fierce and ravenous goat advance Devouring banks and bridges; now demure As maid from rustic well who bears her ewer, Spilling her scanty water as she dallies, And every youth along her pathway rallies.’ So spake her sweet Provençal majesty, And rose with brimful apron, and put by Her gathered treasure. Two more maids were there, Twin sisters, the one dark, the other fair,-- Azaläis, Viòulano. The stronghold Of Estoublon sheltered their parents old. And oft these two to Lotus Farmstead came; While that mischievous lad, Cupid by name, Who loves to sport with generous hearts and tender, Had made the sisters both their love surrender To the same youth. So Azaläis said,-- The dark one,--lifting up her raven head: “Now, damsels, play awhile that I were queen. The Marseilles ships, the Beaucaire meadows green. Smiling La Ciotat, and fair Salon, With all her almond trees, to me belong. Then the young maids I’d summon by decree, From Arles, Baux, Barbentano, unto me. “‘Come, fly like birds!’ the order should be given; And I, of these, would choose the fairest seven, And royal charge upon the same would lay, The false love and the true in scales to weigh. And then would merry counsel holden be; For sure it is a great calamity “That half of those who love, with love most meet, Can never marry, and their joy complete. But when I, Azaläis, hold the helm, I proclamation make, that in my realm True lovers wounded in their cruel sport Shall aye find mercy at the maiden’s court.