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And thunders rattle loud,

And call the brave

To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Our airy feet,

So light and fleet,

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;

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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;

Make space full wide

For martial pride,

For banner, spear, and plume. Approach, draw near,

Proud cuirassier!

!

Room for the men of steel!

Through crest and plate

The broadsword's weight

Both head and heart shall feel.

VI.

Wheel the wild dance

While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud,

And call the brave

To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Sons of the spear!

You feel us near

In many a ghastly dream; ob id

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And hear our fatal scream.400 M

With fancy's eye

Our forms you spy,

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With clearer sight as

Just when to weal or woeð ́Haft

Your disembodied souls take flight

On trembling wing-each startled sprité
Our choir of death shall know.

VII.

Wheel the wild dance

While lightnings glance,

And thunders rattle loud,

And call the brave

To bloody grave,

To sleep without a shroud.

Burst, ye clouds, in tempest showers, Redder rain shall soon be ours

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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.

VIII.

At morn, grey Allan's mates with awe
Heard of the vision'd sights he saw,
The legend heard him say;

But the Seer's gifted eye was dim,
Deafen'd his ear, and stark his limb,

Ere closed that bloody day

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He sleeps far from his Highland heath,But often of the Dance of Death

His comrades tell the tale,

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

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ROMANCE OF DUNOIS.

FROM THE FRENCH.

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 what had been the fate of its late owner. The song is popu lar 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 bound for Palestine,

But first he made his orisons before St. 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."

'[This ballad appeared in 1815, in Paul's Letters, and in the Edinburgh Annual Register. It has since been set to music by G. F. Graham, Esq., in Mr. Thomson's Select Melodies, &c.] [The original romance,

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was written, and set to music also, by Hortense Beauharnois, Duchesse de St. Leu, Ex-queen of Holland.]

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His oath of honour on the shrine he graved it with his

sword,

And follow'd to the Holy Land the banner of his Lord; Where, faithful to his noble vow, his war-cry fill'd the

air,

"Be honour'd 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 honour beat by bliss must be repaid.

My daughter Isabel and thou shall be a wedded pair, For thou art bravest of the brave, she fairest 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, "Honour'd be the bravest knight, beloved the fairest fair!"

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