IN FOLK SONGS 133 



to take with her no less than his own sad 

 and lonely self : — 



Sad, sad is my life to me, 



Sad as ever can be ; 



Take me with you, let me follow 



Where you wander, little swallow. 



But in France, sighs, notes, and companion- 

 ship, all are of no avail. There the young 

 man longs to be the bird herself. He re- 

 turns from the wars to his own city, and 

 knocks at the door of his promised bride. 

 She refuses to open the door. Listen to his 

 plaint : — 



A swallow I'd be, 



And then I would flee 



To the arms of Marrianne ; 



There I'd alight, 



And from her face white 



Sweet kiss take by right. 



But the maiden saucily replies : — 



No branches are my arms 

 For you to rest upon ; 

 In father's garden, see, 

 You'll find rosebushes three, 

 That'll furnish rest for thee ! 



