And now I take the opportunity to thank you for the new Book sent me containing the Anthems sung in our Cathedral and Collegiate Churches: 'tis probable there will be additions, the Masters of Musick being now active in that affair. Beside my naked thanks I have yet nothing to return you but this enclosed, which may be somewhat rare unto you, and that is a Turkish Hymn translated into French out of the Turkish Metre, which I thus render unto you.
_O what praise doth he deserve, and how great is that Lord, all whose Slaves are as so many Kings!_
_Whosoever shall rub his Eyes with the dust of his Feet, shall behold such admirable things that he shall fall into an ecstasie._
_He that shall drink one drop of his Beverage, shall have his Bosome like the Ocean filled with Gems and pretious Liquours._
_Let not loose the Reins unto thy Passions in this world: he that represseth them shall become a true Solomon in the Faith._
_Amuse not thy self to adore Riches, nor to build great Houses and Palaces._
_The end of what thou shall build is but ruine._
_Pamper not thy Body with delicacies and dainties; it may come to pass one day that this Body may be in Hell._
_Imagine not that he who findeth Riches findeth Happiness; he that findeth Happiness is he that findeth God._
_All who prostrating themselves in humility shall this day believe in_ Velè,[264] _if they were Poor shall be Rich, and if Rich shall become Kings._
After the Sermon ended which was made upon a Verse in the Alcoran containing much Morality, the _Deruices_ in a Gallery apart sung this Hymn, accompanied with Instrumental Musick, which so affected the Ears of Monsieur _du Loyr_, that he would not omit to set it down, together with the Musical Notes, to be found in his first Letter unto Monsieur _Bouliau_, Prior of _Magny_.
Excuse my brevity: I can say but little where I understand but little.
_Mens mea sublimes rationes præmeditatur._
Though I may justly allow a good intention in this Poem presented unto you, yet I must needs confess, I have no affection for it; as being utterly averse from all affectation in Poetry, which either restrains the phancy, or fetters the invention to any strict disposure of words. A poem of this nature is to be found in _Ausonius_ beginning thus,