Yonder bright Durance pours its silver line,
And here rich gardens bloom, and turrets shine,
Where Avignon o'erlooks the Elysian scene,
Fair as a bride, yet stately as a queen.
The olived walks, the vines, and myrtle bowers,
The gliding Rhone thick-fringed with trees and flowers,
Soft bells whose murmurs steep the rosy air,
Ravish each sense, and make an Eden there.