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Saint Cloud.

[Paris, 5th September, 1815.] SOFT spread the southern summer night

Her veil of darksome blue;
Ten thousand stars combined to light

The terrace of Saint Cloud.

The evening breezes gently sigh’d,

Like breath of lover true, Bewailing the deserted pride

And wreck of sweet Saint Cloud.

Night and morning were at meeting

Over Waterloo;
Cocks had sung their earliest greeting;

Faint and low they crew;
For no paly beam yet shone
On the heights of Mount Saint John;
Tempest-clouds prolong’d the sway
Of timeless darkness over day;
Whirlwind, thunder-clap, and shower,
Mark'd it a predestined hour.
Broad and frequent through the night
Flash'd the sheets of levin-light;
Muskets, glancing lightnings back,
Show'd the dreary bivouac

Where the soldier lay,
Chill and stiff, and drench'd with rain,
Wishing dawn of morn again,

Though death should come with day.

The drum’s deep roll was heard afar,

The bugle wildly blew
Good-night to Hulan and Hussar,

That garrison Saint Cloud.

The startled Naiads from the shade

With broken urns withdrew, And silenced was that proud cascade,

The glory of Saint Cloud.


We sate upon its steps of stone,

Nor could its silence rue, When waked, to music of our own,

The echoes of Saint Cloud.

Slow Seine might hear each lovely note

Fall light as summer dew, While through the moonlessa air they float,

Prolong'd from fair Saint Cloud.

'Tis at such a tide and hour,
Wizard, witch, and fiend have power,
And ghastly forms through mist and shower

Gleam on the gifted ken;
And then the affrighted prophet's ear
Drinks whispers strange of fate and fear
Presaging death and ruin near

Among the sons of men ;-
Apart from Albyn's war-array,
'Twas then gray Allan sleepless lay;
Gray Allan, who, for many a day,

Had follow'd stout and stern,
Where, through battle's rout and reel,

And sure a melody more sweet

His waters never knew,

1 MS.-" Absence." MS.—“Midnight."

9 These lines were written after an evening spent at Saint Cloud with the late Lady Alvanley and her daughters, one of whom was the songstress alluded to in the text.

* Originally published in 1815, in the Edinburgh Annual Register, vol. v.

6 MS.-"Dawn and darkness."

Storm of shot and hedge of steel;
Led the grandson of Lochiel,

Valiant Fassiefern.
Through steel and shot he leads no more,
Low laid ’mid friends' and foemen's gore-
But long his native lake's wild shore,
And Sunart rough, and high Ardgower,

And Morven long shall tell,
And proud Bennevis hear with awe,
How, upon bloody Quatre-Bras,
Brave Cameron heard the wild hurra

Of conquest as he fell.'

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'Lone on the outskirts of the host,
The weary sentinel held post,
And heard, through darkness far aloof,
The frequent clango of courser's hoof,
Where held the cloak'd patrol their course,
And spurr'd 'gainst storm the swerving

But there are sounds in Allan's ear,
Patrol nor sentinel may hear,
And sights before his eye aghast
Invisible to them have pass’d,

When down the destined plain,
'Twixt Britain and the bands of France,
Wild as marsh-borne meteor’s glance,
Strange phantoms wheeld a revel dance,

And doom'd the future slain.-
Such forms were seen, such sounds were

heard, When Scotland's James his march prepared,

For Flodden's fatal plain ;
Such, when he drew his ruthless sword,
As Choosers of the Slain, adored

The yet unchristen'd Dane.
An indistinct and phantom band,
They wheeld their ring-dance hand in hand,

With gestures wild and dread; The Seer, who watch'd them ride the storm, Saw through their faint and shadowy form

The lightning's flash more red; And still their ghastly roundelay Was of the coming battle-fray,

And of the destined dead.

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.


Song. * 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;
With fancy's eye
Our forms you spy,

And hear our fatal scream.
With clearer sight
Ere falls the night,

Just when to weal or woe
Your disembodied souls take flight
On trembling wing-each startled sprite

Our choir of death shall know.

1 See note, ante, p. 509. 2 MS." Oft came the clang," &c.

3 See ante, Marmion, canto v. stanzas 24, 25, 26, and Ap pendix, Note 4 A, p. 173.

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1 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,

“ Partant pour la Syrie,

Le jeune et brave Dunois," &c.

was written, and set to music also, by Hortense Beauharnois, Duchesse de St. Leo, Ex-Queen of Holland.

9 The original of this ballad also was written and composed by the Duchesse de St. Leo. The translation has been set to music by Mr. Thomson. See his Collection of Scottish Songs. 1826.

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From the brown crest of Newark its summons

extending, Our signal is waving in smoke and in flame; 1 This trifle also is from the French Collection, found at Waterloo.--See Paul's Letters.

This song appears with Music in Mr. G. Thomson's Collection—1826. The foot-ball match on which it was written

took place on December 5, 1815, and was also celebrated by the Ettrick Shepherd. See Life of Scott, vol. v. pp. 112, 116, 122.

* The bearer of the standard was the Author's eldest son.

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THE DYING GIPSY SMUGGLER WASTED, weary, wherefore stay, Wrestling thus with earth and clay! From the body pass away ;

Hark! the mass is singing.

1 64

Sleep on till day." These words, adapted to a melody somewhat different from the original, are sung in my friend Mr. Terry's drama of " Gay Mannering.” [The "Lullaby" was first printed in Mr. Terry's drama : it was afterwards set to music in Thomson's Collection. 1822.]

From thee doff thy mortal weed, Mary Mother be thy speed,

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