The fair Rosalie

Has lost her lover bold,

Is n't she unhappy,

Only fifteen years old!

He promised to return,—

The deep woods were to blame,—

But she has waited vainly;

The traitor never came.

"Nightingale that sings,

Nightingale that flies,

Tell me, tell me truly,

Where my lover lies."

"Your lover, maiden fair,

Has gone across the Rhine.

Captains three are with him,

And he is brave and fine.

"Exchange your woman's dress

For a soldier's coat of blue:

In thirty days you 'll find him,

If you his route pursue."

When she arrived at Bruges,

She found her lover there,

Training with the soldiers,

With banners floating fair.

"If I had known, my dear,

You would have followed me,

You would not have found me,

For I'd have crossed the sea."

"Am I not unhappy,

To march so far to find

The traitor, whom I love,

And who is so unkind?

"Nightingale that sings,

And who hast flown so far,

Tell me, tell me truly,

Where other lovers are."

But all the other lads

Have sought for other brides,

And taken for their spouses

The sabres at their sides.

The Veille des Noces gayly mocks the impatience of the young maiden for the dawn of her wedding day, which will not allow her to rest quiet in bed, or endure without reply the rebuke of her more contented mother:—