The Last of the Stuarts

Le Dernier des Stuart

by/par Daniel Weir (1796 - 1831)

Tune - Mélodie
No tune known. Replaced here by 'Callum a Glen'

From Captain Fraser's "Airs and Melodies particuliar to the Islands of Scotland and the Isles (1816, 1874) N°93, p 228.

Sequenced by Christian Souchon



To the tune:

See "Callum a Glen
A propos de la mélodie:

See "Callum a Glen

THE LAST OF THE STUARTS.

1. The last of the Stuarts has sunk in the grave,
And their name and their lineage is gone ;
And the land of the stranger a resting place gave
To him that was heir to a throne.
To him that was heir to a throne.

2. But the noon of their glory was soon overspread,
And their sun he grew dark with dismay ;
And the clouds of misfortune hung over their head,
Till their sceptre had vanished away.
Till their sceptre had vanished away.

3. No more for their cause shall the trumpet be blown,
Nor their followers crowd to the field ;
Their hopes were all wreck'd when Culloden was won,
And the fate of their destiny seal'd.
And the fate of their destiny seal'd.

4. Cold, cold is that heart which could stand o'er his grave,
Nor think of their fate with a sigh,
That the glory of kings, like a wreck from the wave,
Here lone and deserted must lie.
Here lone and deserted must lie.

Source: From R.A. Smith's (1780-1829) "The Scotish Minstrel" (1821 - 1824) and G.S. McQuoid's "Jacobite Songs and Ballads", N°206, p.428, ed. 1888.
LE DERNIER DES STUART

1. Avec le dernier des Stuart s'éteignent
Leur nom et leur lignage à la fois.
Il fallut qu'un prince étranger vienne
Offrir sa tombe au fils d'un roi!
Offrir sa tombe au fils d'un roi!

2. Le midi de leur gloire s'efface,
Leur soleil, consterné, s'assombrit,
Les nuées du malheur les menacent
Le sceptre enfin leur fut ravi.
Le sceptre enfin leur fut ravi.

3. La trompette à défendre leur cause
N'appellera plus ses affidés.
A Culloden elle fut forclose,
Leur destin à jamais scellé.
Leur destin à jamais scellé.

4. Cruel le cœur qui, sur ce sépulcre,
Ne serait ému par leur destin,
La gloire des rois, la solitude
L'engloutit. Il n'en reste rien.
L'engloutit. Il n'en reste rien.

(Trad. Christian Souchon (c) 2010)
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