Dieu le donna aux peuples Hebraiques;
    Dieu te devoit, ce pense-je, aux Galliques.

He insinuates that in his version he had received assistance

               ——­par les divins esprits
    Qui ont sous toy Hebrieu langage apris,
    Nous sont jettes les Pseaumes en lumiere
    Clairs, et au sens de la forme premiere.

This royal dedication is more solemn than usual; yet Marot, who was never grave but in prison, soon recovered from this dedication to the king, for on turning the leaf we find another, “Aux Dames de France!” Warton says of Marot, that “He seems anxious to deprecate the raillery which the new tone of his versification was likely to incur, and is embarrassed to find an apology for turning saint.”  His embarrassments, however, terminate in a highly poetical fancy.  When will the golden age be restored? exclaims this lady’s psalmist,

    Quand n’aurons plus de cours ni lieu
    Les chansons de ce petit Dieu
    A qui les peintres font des aisles? 
    O vous dames et demoiselles
    Que Dieu fait pour estre son temple
    Et faites, sous mauvais exemple
    Retentir et chambres et sales,
    De chansons mondaines ou salles, &c.

Knowing, continues the poet, that songs that are silent about love can never please you, here are some composed by love itself; all here is love, but more than mortal!  Sing these at all times.

    Et les convertir et muer
    Faisant vos levres remuer,
    Et vos doigts sur les espinettes
    Pour dire saintes chansonettes.

Marot then breaks forth with that enthusiasm, which perhaps at first conveyed to the sullen fancy of the austere Calvin the project he so successfully adopted, and whose influence we are still witnessing.

    O bien heureux qui voir pourra
    Fleurir le temps, que l’on orra
    Le laboureur a sa charrue
    Le charretier parmy la rue,
    Et l’artisan en sa boutique
    Avecques un PSEAUME ou cantique,
    En son labeur se soulager;
    Heureux qui orra le berger
    Et la bergere en bois estans
    Faire que rochers et estangs
    Apres eux chantent la hauteur
    Du saint nom de leurs Createur. 
      Commencez, dames, commencez
    Le siecle dore! avancez! 
    En chantant d’un cueur debonnaire,
    Dedans ce saint cancionnaire.

      Thrice happy they, who shall behold,
    And listen in that age of gold! 
    As by the plough the labourer strays,
    And carman mid the public ways,
    And tradesman in his shop shall swell
    Their voice in Psalm or Canticle,
    Sing to solace toil; again,
    From woods shall come a sweeter strain
    Shepherd and shepherdess shall vie
    In many a tender Psalmody;
    And the Creator’s name prolong
    As rock and stream return their song! 
      Begin then, ladies fair! begin
    The age renew’d that knows no sin! 
    And with light heart, that wants no wing,
    Sing! from this holy song-book, sing![302]