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 popular in France, and is rather a good specimen of the style of composition to which it belongs. The translation is strictly literal.

Ir 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 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,

the air,

his war-cry filled

"Be honoured 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, "Honoured be the bravest knight, beloved 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 favourite maid,

The minstrel-burthen 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 hew'd 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 foemen'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."

FROM THE FRENCH.

Ir chanced that Cupid on a season,
By Fancy urged, resolved to wed,
But could not settle whether Reason
Or Folly should partake his bed.

What does he then?-Upon my life,
'Twas bad example for a deity-
He takes me Reason for his wife,
And Folly for his hours of gayety.

Though thus he dealt in petty treason,

He loved them both in equal measure; Fidelity was born of Reason,

And Folly brought to bed of Pleasure.