They do not bend the rye

That sinks its head when whirlwinds rave,

And swells again in eddying wave

As each wild gust blows by;

But still the corn

At dawn of morn

Our fatal steps that bore,

At eve lies waste,

A trampled paste

Of blackening mud and gore.

Wheel the wild dance
While lightnings glance
And thunders rattle loud,
And call the brave
To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Wheel the wild dance!
Brave sons of France,

For you our ring makes room;

90

100

To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Burst
ye clouds, in tempest showers,
Redder rain shall soon be ours—
See the east grows wan-
Yield we place to sterner game,
Ere deadlier bolts and direr flame
Shall the welkin's thunders shame;
Elemental rage is tame

To the wrath of man.

At morn, gray Allan's mates with awe
Heard of the visioned sights he saw,

The legend heard him say;
But the Seer's gifted eye was dim,
Deafened his ear and stark his limb,

Ere closed that bloody day—
He sleeps far from his Highland heath, -
But often of the Dance of Death

His comrades tell the tale,

150

On picquet-post when ebbs the night,
And waning watch-fires glow less bright,
And dawn is glimmering pale.

ROMANCE OF DUNOIS

This and the two translations that follow were published by Scott in Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk, in 1815, the book that grew out of his sudden visit to Waterloo. They were taken from a manuscript collection of French songs, probably compiled, says Scott, by some young officer, which was found stained with clay and blood on the field of Waterloo. The first is the well-known

'Partant pour la Syrie'

and both that and the second were written and set to music by Hortense Beauharnais, once queen of Holland.

It was Dunois, the young and brave, was bound for Palestine,

But first he made his orisons before Saint Mary's shrine:

And grant, immortal Queen of Heaven,' was still the soldier's prayer, 'That I may prove the bravest knight and love the fairest fair.'

His oath of honor on the shrine he graved it with his sword,

And followed to the Holy Land the banner of his Lord;

Where, faithful to his noble vow, his warcry filled the air,

'Be honored aye the bravest knight, beloved the fairest fair.'

They owed the conquest to his arm, and then his liege-lord said,

The heart that has for honor beat by bliss must be repaid.

My daughter Isabel and thou shall be a wedded pair,

For thou art bravest of the brave, she fair-
est of the fair.'

And then they bound the holy knot before
Saint Mary's shrine
That makes a paradise on earth, if hearts
and hands combine;

And every lord and lady bright that were
in chapel there
Cried, 'Honored be the bravest knight, be-

loved the fairest fair!'

THE TROUBADOUR

GLOWING with love, on fire for fame,
A Troubadour that hated sorrow
Beneath his lady's window came,
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;
Gayly for love and fame to fight
Befits the gallant Troubadour.'

And while he marched with helm on head
And harp in hand, the descant rung,
As, faithful to his favorite maid,

The minstrel-burden still he sung: 'My arm it is my country's right,

My heart is in my lady's bower; Resolved for love and fame to fight, I come, a gallant Troubadour."

Even when the battle-roar was deep,

With dauntless heart he hewed his way, Mid splintering lance and falchion-sweep, And still was heard his warrior-lay: My life it is my country's right, My heart is in my lady's bower; For love to die, for fame to fight, 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 life it is my country's right,

My heart is in my lady's bower; For love and fame to fall in fight

Becomes the valiant Troubadour.'

IV

'DARK SHALL BE LIGHT'

From Chapter xlix.

DARK shall be light,

And wrong done to right,

425

When Bertram's right and Bertram's might Shall meet on Ellangowan's height.

LULLABY OF AN INFANT CHIEF

AIR-Cadul

gu lo' The words of the air signify 'Sleep on till day.' The lullaby was written for Mr. Terry's dramatization of Guy Mannering.

O, HUSH thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight,

Thy mother a lady both lovely and bright; The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see,

They all are belonging, dear babie, to thee.
O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo,
O ho ro, i ri ri, etc.

O, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows,

It calls but the warders that guard thy repose;

Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red,

Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.

O ho ro, i ri ri, etc.

AIR-A Border Melody'

The first stanza is old. The others were added to it for Campbell Albyn's Anthology, 1816.

'WHY weep ye by the tide, ladie?
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye sall be his bride:
And ye sall be his bride, ladie,

Sae comely to be seen'-
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of Hazeldean.

'Now let this wilfu' grief be done,

And dry that cheek so pale;
Young Frank is chief of Errington
And lord of Langley-dale;
His step is first in peaceful ha',

His sword in battle keen' -
But aye she loot the tears down fa'

For Jock of Hazeldean.

A chain of gold ye sall not lack,
Nor braid to bind your hair;
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
And you, the foremost o' them a',

Shall ride our forest queen.'—
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of Hazeldean.