What a melting bridal carol
Sings the nightmgale, the pure one.
How the fire-flies in the grasses
Trip their sparkling torchlight dances !

In the grove the silence deepens,
Naught is heard save furtive rustling
Of the swaying myrtle branches,
And the breathing of the flowers.

But the sound of drum and trumpet
Burst forth sudden from the castle.
Rudely they awaken Clara,
Pillowed on her lover's bosom.

" Hark ! they summon me, my darling !
But before we part, oh tell me,
Tell me what thy precious name is,
Which so closely thou hast hidden."

Then the knight with gentle laughter,
Kissed the fingers of his Donna,
Kissed her lips and kissed her forehead.
And at last these words he uttered :

" I, Señora, your beloved,
Am the son of the respected,
Worthy, erudite Grand Rabbi,
Israel of Saragossa."