In Scott's novel, Quentin Durward, the eponymous hero has just been shown to his room in a French inn and hears these verses sung by a "the maid of the veil, and of the lute" from a little turret opposite his. Scott writes:

The words had neither so much sense, wit, or fancy, as to withdraw the attention from the music, nor the music so much of art, as to drown all feeling of the words. The one seemed fitted to the other; and if the song had been recited without the notes, or the air played without the words, neither would have been worth noting. It is, therefore, scarcely fair to put upon record lines intended not to be said or read, but only to be sung. But such scraps of old poetry have always had a sort of fascination for us; and as the tune is lost for ever -- unless Bishop happens to find the notes, or some lark teaches Stephens to warble the air -- we will risk our credit, and the taste of the Lady of the Lute, by preserving the verses, simple and even rude as they are.

MIDI File [17K, 2' 11"]

Score [375K]

Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea. The orange-flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea. The lark, his lay, who thrilled all day, Sits hushed his partner nigh. Breeze, bird and flower confess the hour But where is County Guy? County Guy! Breeze, bird and flower confess the hour But where, but where is County Guy? The village maid steals through the shade, Her shepherd's suit to hear: To beauty shy, by lattice high, Sings high-born cavalier. The star of love, all stars above Now reigns o'er earth and sky And high and low the influence know But where is County Guy? County Guy? And high and low the influence know But where, but where is County Guy?

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