Soft spread the southern sumer night br Her veil of darksome blue; br Ten thousand stars combined to light br The terrace of Saint Cloud. br br The evening breezes gently sigh'd, br Like breath of lover true, br Bewailing the deserted pride br And wreck of sweet Saint Cloud. br br The drum's deep roll was heard afar, br The bugle wildly blew br Good-night to Hulan and Hussar br That garrison Saint Cloud. br br The startled Naiads from the shade br With broken urns withdrew br And silenced was that proud cascade, br The glory of Saint Cloud. br br We sate upon its steps of stone, br Nor could its silence rue br When waked, to music of our own, br The echoes of Saint Cloud. br br Slow Seine might hear each lovely note br Fall light as summer dew br While through the moonless air they float br Prolong'd from fair Saint Cloud. br br And sure a melody more sweet br His waters never knew, br Though music's self was wont to meet br With Princes at Saint Cloud. br br Nor then, with more delighted ear, br The circle round her drew, br Than ours, when gather'd round to hear br Our songstress at Saint Cloud. br br Few happy hours poor mortals pass-— br Then give those hours their due, br And rank among the foremost class br Our evenings at Saint Cloud.