We left at once with the good wishes of all, took barge at Genoa as far as Antibes, and thence by post to Lyons, where we put up at the Hôtel du Parc.
Here we met a number of French officers, who brought news of the Battle of Falkirk, wherein Prince Charles had beaten the English cavalry and infantry off the field; and though, at the same time, we knew he had retreated from England, it did not serve to dash bur spirits, and we supped merrily together, drinking toast after toast to the success of the Cause.
All the old songs were sung lustily, and the French officers were much amused at our enthusiasm; but it was Father O'Rourke who carried off the honours of the evening by singing the following, to an air that was new to me:
Oh the water, the water,
The dun and eerie water,
Which long has parted loving hearts that wearied for their home!
O'er the water, the water,
The dark, dividing water,
Our Bonnie Prince has come at last, at last—to claim his Own.
He has come to hearts that waited,
He has come to hearts that welcome,
He has come though friends have wavered, with the foe
upon his track.
But what loyal heart will falter
When our Bonnie Prince is standing
With his banner blue above his head and his claymore
at his back?
Then gather ye, Appin, Clanranald, Glengarry!
Cross has gone round! Will a single man tarry
When we march with our Prince against Geordie's Dutch carles?
We are out for the King!
We will conquer or swing!
But the bonnie brown broadswords will klink and will kling
From the Tweed to the Thames for our Bonnie Prince Charles!
Oh! the waiting, the waiting,
The cruel night of waiting,
When we brake the bread of sorrow and drank our bitter tears,
It has broken at his coming
Like the mist on Corryvechan,
In the sunlight of his presence we have lost our midnight fears.
When the Prince unfurled his standard
In the green vale of Glenfinnan,
Beneath a sky as bright and blue, blown clear of storm and wrack,
The Loyal chiefs came thronging
To where their Prince was standing
With his banner blue above his head and his claymore at his back.
Then gather ye, Appin, Clanranald, Glengarry!
The Cross has gone round! Will a single man tarry
When we march with our Prince against Geordie's Dutch carles?
We are out for the King!
We will conquer or swing!
But the bonnie brown broadswords will klink and will kling
From the Tweed to the Thames for our Bonnie Prince Charles!
Oh! the heather, the heather,
Our modest hill-side heather,
Hath donned her royal robe again to welcome back her Own.
The roses bloom once more in hearts
That hope deferred was wasting
That will march with Bonnie Charlie, to halt only at his Throne!
We have suffered, we have sorrowed,
But our joy has come with morning,
And all is shining gloriously that late was drear and black.
Then up and out, ye gallant hearts,
To where your Prince is standing,
With his banner blue above his head and his claymore at his back!
Then gather ye, Appin, Clanranald, Glengarry!
The Cross has gone round! Will a single man tarry
When we march with our Prince against Geordie's Dutch carles?
We are out for the King!
We will conquer or swing!
But the bonnie brown broadswords will klink and will kling
From the Tweed to the Thames for our Bonnie Prince Charles!