III.

Then she, to whom I prisoner was,

Said to me tauntingly, Now cheer your heart, and sing a song,

And tune your mind to joy.

Mighty sweet, said Mr. Williams. But let us see how the next verse is turned. It is this:

Alas! said we; who can once frame

His heavy heart to sing The praises of our living God,

Thus under a strange king?

Why, said my master, it is turned with beautiful simplicity, thus: