She has griffins twain to guard her gate,
A mastiff-hound to watch in her hall,
A page for her train when she walks in state,
And minstrels and maidens around her to wait,
And lovers and gallants at beck and call;
But ah! She left her shutter a-jar
For the cool to climb over the window-bar! The griffins grinn'd in the moonlight green,
The hound by the grim red embers slept;
I scraped a chord on my mandoline,
A chord, Pardè, that might ruin a queen!
And softly a-down the garden I crept;
And, ah! The song slid thro' the shutter a-jar,
And the lady lean'd over the window-bar!