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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
France: Vols. IX–X. 1876–79.


Mary Stuart’s Farewell

By Pierre-Jean de Béranger (1780–1857)

Translated by John Oxenford

ADIEU, beloved France, adieu,

Thou ever wilt be dear to me.

Land which my happy childhood knew,

I feel I die, in quitting thee.

Thou wert the country of my choice,

I leave thee, loving thee alone;

Ah! hear the exile’s parting voice,

And think of her when she is gone.

The breeze about the vessel plays,

We leave the coast,—I weep in vain,

For God the billows will not raise,

To cast me on thy shore again.

Adieu, beloved France, etc.

When on my brow the lilies bright

Before admiring throngs I wore,

’T was not my state that charmed their sight,

They loved my youthful beauty more.

Although the Scot with sombre mien

Gives me a crown, I still repine;

I only wished to be a queen,

Ye sons of France, to call you mine.

Adieu, beloved France, etc.

Love, glory, genius crowded round,

My youthful spirit to elate;

On Caledonia’s rugged ground,

Ah! changed indeed will be my fate.

E’en now terrific omens seem

To threaten ill,—my heart is scared;

I see, as in a hideous dream,

A scaffold for my death prepared.

Adieu, beloved France, etc.

France, from amid the countless fears

The Stuart’s hapless child may feel,

E’en as she now looks through her tears,

So will her glances seek thee still.

Alas! the ship too swiftly sails,

O’er me are spreading other skies,

And night with humid mantle veils

Thy fading coast from these sad eyes.

Adieu, beloved France, etc.