Poor Betty now has lost all hope,
Her thoughts are bent on deadly sin :
A green-grown pond she just has pass'd,
And from the brink she hurries fast,
Lest she should drown herself therein.

295

And now she sits her down and weeps ;
Such tears she never shed before;
"O dear, dear pony! my sweet joy!
Oh, carry back my Idiot Boy!
And we will ne'er o'erload thee more."

300

A thought is come into her head :
66 The pony he is mild and good,
And we have always used him well :
Perhaps he's gone along the dell,
And carried Johnny to the wood."

Then up she springs as if on wings;

305

Perhaps, and no unlikely thought!
He with his pony now doth roam

And, still and mute, in wonder lost,

All like a silent horseman ghost,

325

He travels on along the vale.

And now, perhaps, is hunting sheep,
A fierce and dreadful hunter he;
Yon valley, now so trim and green,

In five months' time, should he be seen,

330

These fourteen years, by strong indentures;
O gentle Muses ! let me tell

He seems, I think, the rein to give ;
Of moon or stars he takes no heed;
Of such we in romances read:
-'Tis Johnny! Johnny, as I live!

355

And that's the very pony too!
Where is she, where is Betty Foy?
She hardly can sustain her fears;
The roaring waterfall she hears,
And cannot find her Idiot Boy.

B

360

Your pony's worth his weight in gold:
Then calm your terrors, Betty Foy!
She's coming from among the trees,
And now all full in view she sees

365

Him whom she loves, her Idiot Boy.

And Betty sees the pony too :

Why stand you thus, good Betty Foy?
It is no goblin, 'tis no ghost,
'Tis he whom you so long have lost,

370

He whom you love, your Idiot Boy.

She looks again—her arms are up—

She screams—she cannot move for joy :
She darts, as with a torrent's force,
She almost has o'erturn'd the horse,

375

And now she's at the pony's tail,
And now she's at the pony's head,—
On that side now, and now on this;
And, almost stifled with her bliss,

385

"O Johnny, never mind the doctor;
You've done your best, and that is all.”
She took the reins, when this was said,
And gently turn'd the pony's head
From the loud waterfall.

By this the stars were almost gone,
The moon was setting on the hill,
So pale you scarcely look'd at her :
The little birds began to stir,
Though yet their tongues were still.

400

405

The pony, Betty, and her boy,

Wind slowly through the woody dale;
And who is she, betimes abroad,

I'll to the wood."-The word scarce said,

Did Susan rise up from her bed,

425

As if by magic cured.

Away she posts up hill and down,

And to the wood at length is come;

She spies her friends, she shouts a greeting;

Oh me! it is a merry meeting

As ever was in Christendom.

430

The owls have hardly sung their last,
While our four travellers homeward wend;

The owls have hooted all night long,

And with the owls began my song,

435

And with the owls must end.

For, while they all were travelling home,

Cried Betty," Tell us, Johnny, do,

Where all this long night you have been,

What you have heard, what you have seen, 440 And, Johnny, mind you tell us true."

Now Johnny all night long had heard
The owls in tuneful concert strive;
No doubt, too, he the moon had seen ;
For in the moonlight he had been
From eight o'clock till five.

445

And thus, to Betty's question, he

Made answer like a traveller bold,

(His very words I give to you,)

"The cocks did crow to-whoo, to-whoo,

450