“Hark!” said Matilda.
“Now the toils of day are over,
And the sun hath sunk to rest,
Seeking, like a fiery lover,
The bosom of the blushing west—
“The faithful night keeps watch and ward,
Raising the moon, her silver shield,
And summoning the stars to guard
The slumbers of my fair Mathilde!”
“For mercy’s sake!” said Sir Rollo, “the ave first, and next the song.”