Romance of Dunois.
[This appeared in 1815, as a translation from the French, in Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk, by Sir Walter Scott. It was afterwards set to music by G. F. Graham, Esq. in Mr. Thomson's Select Melodies. Sir Walter says that "the original made part of a MS. collection of French Songs, found on the field of Waterloo, so much stained with clay and with blood as sufficiently to indicate the fate of its owner." Mr Lockhart informs us, that the original romance,
"Partant pour la Syrie, le jeune et brave Dunois," &c.
was written, and set to music also, by Hortense Beauharnois, Duchesse de St. Leu, Ex-Queen of Holland.]
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."
His oath of honour 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 war-cry filled the air—
"Be honoured aye the bravest knight—be loved 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 St. 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, "Honoured be the bravest knight—be loved the fairest fair."
Native Caledonia.
[This popular strain was written by William Lockhart.—Tune, "The Dusky Glen."]
Sair, sair was my heart, when I parted frae my Jean,
An' sair, sair I sigh'd while the tear stood in my een,
For my daddie is but poor, and my fortune is sae sma',
It gars me leave my native Caledonia.
When I think on the days now gane, an' sae happy's I ha'e been,
While wand'ring wi' my dear, where the primrose blaws unseen,
I'm wae to leave my lassie, and my daddie's simple ha',
Or the hills an' healthfu' breeze o' Caledonia.
But wherever I wander, still happy be my Jean,
Nae care disturb her bosom, where peace has ever been;
Then tho' ills on ills befa' me, for her I'll bear them a',
Though aft I'll heave a sigh for Caledonia.
But should riches e'er be mine, and my Jeanie still prove true,
Then blaw ye fav'ring breezes, till my native land I view;
Then I'll kneel on Scotia's shore, while the heartfelt tear shall fa',
And never leave my Jean, nor Caledonia.
