When wild war's deadly blast was blawn, And gentle peace returning, Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless, And mony a widow mourning; I left the lines and tented field, Where lang I'd been a lodger, My humble knapsack a' my wealth, A poor and honest sodger. A leal, light heart was in my breast, My hand unstain'd wi' plunder; And for fair Scotia hame again, I cheery on did wander: I thought upon the banks o' Coil, I thought upon my Nancy, I thought upon the witching smile That caught my youthful fancy. At length I reach'd the bonie glen, Where early life I sported; I pass'd the mill and trysting thorn, Where Nancy aft I courted: Wha spied I but my ain dear maid, Down by her mother's dwelling! And turn'd me round to hide the flood That in my een was swelling. Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, "Sweet lass, Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, O! happy, happy may he be, That's dearest to thy bosom: My purse is light, I've far to gang, And fain would be thy lodger; I've serv'd my king and country lang- Take pity on a sodger." Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me, And lovelier was than ever; Quo' she, "A sodger ance I lo'ed, Forget him shall I never: Our humble cot, and hamely fare, Ye freely shall partake it; That gallant badge-the dear cockade, Ye're welcome for the sake o't." She gaz'd-she redden'd like a rose - Syne pale like only lily; She sank within my arms, and cried, "Art thou my ain dear Willie?" "By him who made yon sun and sky! By whom true love's regarded, I am the man; and thus may still True lovers be rewarded. "The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame, And find thee still true-hearted; Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love, And mair we'se ne'er be parted." Quo' she, "My grandsire left me gowd, A mailen plenish'd fairly; And come, my faithfu' sodger lad, Thou'rt welcome to it dearly!" For gold the merchant ploughs the main, The farmer ploughs the manor; But glory is the sodger's prize, The sodgerpppp's wealth is honor: The brave poor sodger ne'er despise, Nor count him as a stranger; Remember he's his country's stay, In day and hour of danger.
J. Haydn sets stanzas 1, 3-4, 6-7
Syne = then;
Gear = riches, goods of any kind;
Gowd = gold;
Mailin = farm.
Authorship:
- by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796), "The Soldier's Return", written 1793 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by (Franz) Joseph Haydn (1732 - 1809), "The soldier's return", JHW. XXXII/5 no. 406, Hob. XXXIa no. 92b, stanzas 1,3-4,6-7 [sung text checked 1 time]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in Russian (Русский), a translation by Samuil Yakovlevich Marschak (1887 - 1964) ; composed by Georgiy Vasil'yevich Sviridov.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "Le retour du soldat", copyright © 2019, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Ferdinando Albeggiani
This text was added to the website: 2012-02-11
Line count: 64
Word count: 383
Умолк тяжёлый гром войны, И мир сияет снова. Поля и села сожжены, И горько плачут вдовы. Я шел домой, в свой край родной, Шатер покинув братский. И в старом ранце за спиной Был весь мой скарб солдатский. Шагал я с легким багажом, Счастливый и свободный. Не отягчил я грабежом Своей сумы походной. Шагал я бодро в ранний час, Задумавшись о милой, О той улыбке синих глаз, Что мне во тьме светила. Вот наша тихая река И мельница в тумане. Здесь, за кустами ивняка, любовь открыл я Анне. Вот я взошёл на склон холма, Мне с юных лет знакомый, - И предо мной она сама Стоит у двери дома. Я сказал ей: «Ты светлей, Чем этот день погожий И тот счастливей всех людей, Кто всех тебе дороже! Хоть у меня карман пустой И сумка пустовата, Но не возьмешь ли на постой Усталого солдата?» На миг её прекрасный взгляд Был грустью отуманен. - Мой милый тоже был солдат. Что с ним? Убит иль ранен?.. И вдруг, узнав мои черты Под слоем серой пыли, Она спросила: - Это ты? – Потом сказала: - Вилли!.. - Да, это я, моя любовь, А ты - моя награда За честно пролитую кровь И лучшей мне не надо.
Show a transliteration: Default | DIN | GOST
Note on TransliterationsAuthorship:
- by Samuil Yakovlevich Marschak (1887 - 1964) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Based on:
- a text in Scottish (Scots) by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796), "The Soldier's Return", written 1793
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Georgiy Vasil'yevich Sviridov (1915 - 1998), "Возвращение солдата" [sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2021-08-27
Line count: 44
Word count: 201