Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 200: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abroad. 100 England, and read in a solemn tone the following translation of De Berenger’s admired ee THE eeibianncks OF THE PEOPLE. FRANCE shall sing Napoleon’s glory In the humble cot for ever ;— Fifty summers hence she’ll never Listen to a stranger’s story. At eve shall meet each village swain, To hear some aged crone recite The deeds of other days again, And thus to wile away the night. “* Well,” they say, “‘ the nation’s heart Constant clings to Bonaparte ; Him we adore! Mother, speak of him once more,— Oh ! speak once more!” «‘-It was in my youthful day— Many since that one have flown— That the great Napoleon Pass’d the cot in grand array. I laboured hard to climb the hill, For I was drest in garments gay ;— Methinks I see his cock’d hat still, And riding coat of homely gray. When he came, I shook with fear ; But he said, ‘ Good day, my dear!’ So kindly too !” «¢ —-Mother, then he notic’d you— He notic’d you!” «‘__Scarce a year had pass’d away, When I saw his princely train, And Napoleon once again :— To the church he went that day. And they were blythe and happy all, Thro’ crowds admiring moving on ; While thousands cried, ‘ May blessings fall From heav’n on Gallia’s fav’rite son !’ Sweet the royal champion smil’d, For he thought upon his child, The infant dear !” «¢—-Mother, ’twas a glorious year, A glorious year !” «‘__Then, when battle rag’d around, When opprest by foreign foes, Braving danger, he arose— He to succour France was found! One night—I never shall forget—y A knocking led me to the door; Great God! mine eyes Napoleon’s met, Follow’d by gorgeous trains no more, In the chair where I am seated, Sate the Hero, and repeated GOMIGIOOKSAGO