The Steam-Packet: A Tale of the River and the Ocean — page 320: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE STEAM PACKET. - 247 you no recitation or song, wherewith to beguile a portion of our time ?”’ “Faith! ’’ ejaculated the captain, ‘‘I do remember the translation of a very powerful ode by the celebrated De Berenger. It relates to the gloomy and terrible Louis XI. of France; and it depicts the mo- ral of a tyrant’s reign in a few short stanzas. The scene is a village- green in the neighbourhood of that fortress of Plessis-des-Tours, which was generally that king’s residence, and which is commemorated in the ‘ Quentin Durward’ of Sir Walter Scott.’’ “Oh! by all means let us hear it!” exclaimed Aramintha in per- fect rapture. ‘“ Here, papa—papa! come and listen to the translation of De Berenger’s new ode—pray do!” And the enthusiastic young lady, catching her father by the arm, dragged him to a seat by her side; so that the old gentleman thought that he was about to hear somethiae uncommonly funny. Captain Pentonville then cleared his voice, and repeated the ensuing stanzas with an intonation that exhibited a perfect comprehension of the mean- ing and aim of the great bard :— LOUIS THE ELEVENTH. WetcomeE! sport that sweetens labour ! Village maidens, village boys, Neighbour hand in hand with neighbour, Dance we, singing to the tabor, And ‘the sackbut’s merry noise ! Our aged king whose name we breathe in dread, Louis, the tenant of yon dreary pile, Designs, in this fair prime of flowers,’tis said, To view our sports, and try if he can smile. Welcome! sport that sweetens labour ! Village maidens, village boys, Neighbour hand in hand with neighbour, Dance we, singing to the tabor, And the sackbut’s merry noise ! While laughter, love, and song, are here abroad, His jealous fears imprison Louis there ; He dreads his peers, his people—aye, his Lord ; But more than all, the mention of his heir. Welcome! sport that sweetens labour ! Village maidens, village boys, Neighbour hand in hand with neighbour, Dance we, singing to the tabor, And the sackbut’s. merry noise ! Gomicbooks (E(0)