TRADUCTION EN ANGLAIS DES HIRONDELLES

De Béranger.

Captive on the Moorish shore, Bent with chains a warrior lay; — « Are ye here, he cried once more, Birds who hate the winter's day.

Swallows ! whom dear hope pursues, Hither e'en across the sea, Doubtless ye of France have news.

Speak ! ah ! speak, of home to me !

Three years have I prayed in sooth.

That some token ye would bear, From that vale which saw my youth, Nursed in dreams so sweet and fair.

Where a limpid stream winds round Many a green fresh lilac tree, I

Ye, my cottage home have found.

Of that vale, ah ! speak to me I One of you, perchance, Avas born, 'Neath the eaves of that dear cot ; Of the mother, there forlorn, You must then have mourned the lot.

Dying she may hope in vain My return each hour to see, Then she waits, then weeps again, Of her love, ah ! speak to me !

Is my sister married yet.

Have you seen a nuptial throng?

Of our village youngsters met Her to praise and bless in song?

And my youthful comrades, they Who took arms with me in glee.

Have they reached their village, say.

Of those friendsj-oh speak to me!

Ah ! the stranger o'er their graves Now may foot it through the vale.

Those who fill my heart he braves.

Makes my mateless sister wail.

Mine, no mother may be more, Chains, still chains, my lot must be ; Swallows, of my native shore, Of its woes ah I speak to me !

366 LwVRMES ET SOURIRES