Provence

"In fair Provence, the land of lute and rose..."

"He play’d an ancient ditty, long since mute, In Provence call’d, ‘La belle dame sans mercy’."

"Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!"

"Ab l'alen tir vas me l'aire Qu'ieu sen venir de Proensa; Tot quant es de lai m'agensa, Si que, quan n'aug ben retraire, Ieu m'o escout en rizen E'n deman per un mot cen, Tan m'es bel quan n'aug ben dire."

"Soft speech Provençal under the olives! Like a queen’s raiment from days long perish’d, Breathing aromas of old unremember’d Perfumes and shining in dust-cover’d places With sudden hints of forgotten splendour— So on the lips of the peasant his language, His only now, the tongue of the peasant."