ROMANCE OF DUNOIS.* FROM TIIE FRENCHI. 1815. The original of this little Romance makes part of a manuscript collection of French Songs, (probably compiled by some young officer,) which was found on the field of Waterloo, so much stained with clay and with blood, as sufficiently to indicate the fate of its late owner. The song is popular in France, and is rather a good specimen of the style of composition to which it belongs. The translation is strictly literal. IT was Dunois, the young and brave, was But first he made his orisons before St. "And grant, immortal Queen of Heaven," His oath of honour on the shrine he graved it with his sword, And every lord and lady bright, that were in chapel there, Cried, "Honour'd be the bravest knight, beloved the fairest fair!" THE TROUBADOUR. FROM THE SAME COLLECTION. Also Composed and Written by Queen 1815. GLOWING with love, on fire for fame, And thus he sung his last good-morrow: "My arm it is my country's right, My heart is in my true-love's bower; Befits the gallant Troubadour." And follow'd to the Holy Land the ban- My arm it is my country's right, ner of his Lord; Where, faithful to his noble war-cry fill'd the air, "Be honour'd aye the bravest knight, beloved the fairest fair. They owed the conquest to his arm, For thou art bravest of the brave, she And then they bound the holy knot "Partant pour la Syrie" was written and the air composed by Queen Hortense of Holland, the daughter of Josephine, and the mother of Napoleon III. It has become the national air of France. My heart is in my lady's bower; Mid splintering lance and falchion-sweep, 66 Becomes the valiant Troubadour." Alas! upon the bloody field He fell beneath the foeman's glaive, But still reclining on his shield, Expiring sung the exulting stave:- My heart is in my lady's bower; Becomes the valiant Troubadour," SONGS OF MEG MERRILIES FROM GUY MANNERING. 1815. "TWIST YE, TWINE YE." TWIST ye, twine ye! even so, Now they wax, and now they dwindle, THE DYING GIPSY'S DIRGE. WASTED, weary, wherefore stay, Hark! the mass is singing. From thee doff thy mortal weed, Hark! the knell is ringing. Fear not snow-drift driving fast, That shall ne'er know waking Haste thee, haste thee, to be gone, Earth flits fast, and time draws on,— Gasp thy gasp, and groan thy groan, Day is near the breaking. But was she, too, a phantom, the Maid who stood by, And listed my lay, while she turn'd from mine eye? Was she, too, a vision, just glancing to view, Then dispersed in the sunbeam, or melted to dew? Oh! would it had been so,-Oh! would that her eye Had been but a star-glance that shot through the sky, And her voice that was moulded to melody's thrill, Had been but a zephyr, that sigh'd and was still! Oh! would it had been so,—not then this poor heart Had learn'd the sad lesson, to love and to part; To bear, unassisted, its burthen of care, While I toil'd for the wealth I had no one to share. Not then had I said, when life's summer was done, And the hours of her autumn were fast speeding on, "Take the fame and the riches ye brought in your train, And restore me the dream of my springtide again." JOCK OF HAZELDEAN. AIR-A Border Melody. 1816. The first stanza of this ballad is ancient. The others were written for Mr. Campbell's Albyn's Anthology. I. "WHY weep ye by the tide, ladie? Sae comely to be seen"- Piobaireachd Dhonuil Dhuidh, piobaireachd Piob agus bratach air faiche Inverlochi. PIBROCH of Donuil Dhu, Wake thy wild voice ane, Hark to the summons! Gentles and commons. Come from deep glen, and True heart that wears one, Come every steel blade, and Strong hand that bears one. Leave untended the herd, The flock without shelter; Come as the winds come, when Come as the waves come, when Chief, vassal, page and groom, Fast they come, fast they come; See how they gather! Wide waves the eagle plume, Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Knell for the onset! |