night was one of those songs, of which the _refrain_ was--

"Le Bien-Aimé--_de l'Almanac_."

A burlesque on the title--Le Bien-Aimé, &c., which the court calendar,
and the court calendar _alone_, had annually given to the late king. I
can offer only a paraphrase.

"Louis Quinze, our burning shame,
Hear our song, 'old well-beloved,'
What if courts and camps are tame,
Pension'd beggars laced and gloved,
France's love grows rather slack,
Idol of--the Almanac.

"Let your flatterers hang or drown,
We are of another school,
Truth no more shall be put down,
We can call a fool a fool,
Fearless of Bastile or rack,
Titus of--the Almanac.

"Louis, trample on your serfs,
We'll be trampled on no more,
Revel in your _parc aux cerfs_,[27]
Eat and drink--'twill soon be o'er.
France will steer another tack,
Solon of--the Almanac!

"Hear your praises from your pages,