And thou wert once a maiden fair, A blushing virgin warm and young: With myrtles wreathed in golden hair, And glossy brow that knew no care-- Upon a bridegroom's arm you hung. The golden locks are silvered now, The blushing cheek is pale and wan; The spring may bloom, the autumn glow, All's one--in chimney corner thou Sitt'st shivering on.-- A moment--and thou sink'st to rest! To wake perhaps an angel blest, In the bright presence of thy Lord. Oh, weary is life's path to all! Hard is the strife, and light the fall, But wondrous the reward! A CREDO. I. For the sole edification Of this decent congregation, Goodly people, by your grant I will sing a holy chant-- I will sing a holy chant. If the ditty sound but oddly, 'Twas a father, wise and godly, Sang it so long ago-- Then sing as Martin Luther sang, As Doctor Martin Luther sang: "Who loves not wine, woman and song, He is a fool his whole life long!" II. He, by custom patriarchal, Loved to see the beaker sparkle; And he thought the wine improved, Tasted by the lips he loved-- By the kindly lips he loved. Friends, I wish this custom pious Duly were observed by us, To combine love, song, wine, And sing as Martin Luther sang, As Doctor Martin Luther sang: "Who loves not wine, woman and song, He is a fool his whole life long!" III. Who refuses this our Credo, And who will not sing as we do, Were he holy as John Knox, I'd pronounce him heterodox! I'd pronounce him heterodox, And from out this congregation, With a solemn commination, Banish quick the heretic, Who will not sing as Luther sang, As Doctor Martin Luther sang: "Who loves not wine, woman and song, He is a fool his whole life long!" FOUR IMITATIONS OF BÉRANGER. LE ROI D'YVETOT. Il était un roi d'Yvetot, Peu connu dans l'histoire; Se levant tard, se couchant tôt, Dormant fort bien sans gloire, Et couronné par Jeanneton D'un simple bonnet de coton, Dit-on. Oh! oh! oh! oh! ah! ah! ah! ah! Quel bon petit roi c'était la! La, la. Il fesait ses quatre repas Dans son palais de chaume, Et sur un âne, pas à pas, Parcourait son royaume. Joyeux, simple et croyant le bien, Pour toute garde il n'avait rien Qu'un chien. Oh! oh! oh ! oh! ah! ah! ah! ah! &c. Il n'avait de goût onéreux Qu'une soif un peu vive; Mais, en rendant son peuple heureux, Il faut bien qu'un roi vive. Lui-même à table, et sans suppôt, Sur chaque muid levait un pot D'impôt. Oh! oh! oh! oh! ah! ah! ah! ah! &c. Aux filles de bonnes maisons Comme il avait su plaire, Ses sujets avaient cent raisons De le nommer leur père: D'ailleurs il ne levait de ban Que pour tirer quatre fois l'an Au blanc. Oh! oh! oh! oh! ah! ah! ah! ah! &c.