Sleeping, waking, 'tis the same, My dream, my thought will only give. Deep in love, &c. CLIX. MILITARY SONG OF THE FRENCH CHAMPION ROLAND *. Let every valiant son of Gaul And feats inspire for future story. Roland in childhood had no fears, Was full of tricks, nor knew a letter, Which, though it cost his mother tears, 4 His father cry'd, "So much the better; * This admirable song, in praise of Roland, was translated from the French of the Marquis de Paulmy, by Dr. Burney. and inserted in the second volume of his History of Music. We'll have him for a soldier bred, "His strength and courage let us nourish, "In war he'll but the better flourish." Roland arriv'd at man's estate, Prov'd that his father well admonish'd, That all the world became astonish'd, And singly give them such a beating, * Let every, &c. Few heroes have been so fortunate as Roland, "Vixere fortes ante Agememnona" "The brave conquered before Agememnon." but then their very names have ingloriously perished. The military renown and amorous adventures of Roland have been consecrated to Fame, by the immortal poems of Ariosto and Berni. His daring courage in battle, his gentleness and courtesy after victory, and his enthusiastic love, are still familiar to every reader; and we have only to regret the loss of his Chanson, or military song, which formerly inspirited whole armies to the most peril. ous exploits. This song would have been a singular curiosity to Englishmen, as it was sung to animate the invading Normans at the battle of Hastings, by Taillefer, one of their minstrels, riding on horseback at the head of their army. In single combat 'twas the same; If giant, sorc'rer, monster, devil. In scaling walls with highest glee, Who men or perils never counted. At night with scouts he watch would keep, Than general in his proud pavilion, On stubborn foes he vengeance wreak'd, But if for mercy once they squeak'd, He was the first to grant them quarter. The battle won, of Roland's soul Each milder virtue took possession; To vanquish'd foes he, o'er a bowl, Let every, &c. When ask'd why Frenchmen wield the brand, No doubt have weigh'd these things in private, Let us his enemies subdue, "Tis all that soldiers e'er should drive at. Let every, &c. Roland like christian true would live, His council in such weighty matter, At table Roland, ever gay, Would eat, and drink, and laugh, and rattle, But all was in a prudent way, On days of guard, or eve of battle. For still to king and country true, He held himself their constant debtor, And only drank in season due, When to transact he'd nothing better. Let every, &c, To captious blade he ne'er would bend, Was slow to take or give offences. But those who wrong'd his prince, or nation, On whom, whene'er to combat led, He dealt out death and devastation, Roland too much ador'd the fair, From whom e'en heroes are defenceless, And by a queen of beauty rare, He all at once was render'd senseless. One hapless morn she left the knight, Who, when he miss'd her, grew quite frantic Our pattern, let him be in fight; His love was somewhat too romantic. Let every, &c. His mighty uncle, Charles the Great, With high command to Roland yielded. Yet tho' a General, Count, and Peer, Roland's kind heart all pride could smother, For each brave man from van to rear, He treated like a friend and brother, Let every, &c. |