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For all might see the bottle-necks

Still dangling at his waist. Thus all through merry Islington

These gambols he did play,
And till he came unto the Wash

Of Edmonton so gay.
And there he threw the wash about

On both sides of the way,
Just like unto a trundling mop,

Or a wild-goose at play.
At Edinonton his loving wife

From the balcony spied
Her tender husband, wond'ring much

To see how he did ride.
Stop, stop, John Gilpin !-Here's the house-

They all at once did cry,
The dinner waits and we are tired :-

Said Gilpin-So am I.
But yet his horse was not a whit

Inclined to tarry there ;
For why? his owner had a house

Full ten miles off, at Ware.
So like an arrow swift he flew,

Shot by an archer strong;
So did he fly-which brings me to

The middle of my song.
A way went Gilpin, out of breath,

And sore against his will,
Till at his friend the Calender's

His horse at last stood still.

The Calender, amazed to see

His neighbour in such triin,
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,

And thus accosted him :-
What news ? what news ? your tidings tell,

Tell me you must and shallSay why bare-headed you are come,

Or why you come at all ? Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,

And loved a timely joke,
And thus unto the Calender

Iu merry guise he spoke :-
I came because your horse would come ;

And if I well forebode,
My hat and wig will soon be here,

They are upon the road.
The Calender, right glad to find

His friend in merry pin,
Return'd him not a single word,

But to the house went in.
Whence straight he came with hat and wig :

A wig that flow'd behind,
A hat not much the worse for wear,

Each comely in its kind.
He held them up, and in his turn

Thus show'd his ready wit :-
My head is twice as big as yours,

They therefore needs must fit. But let me scrape the dirt away

That hangs upon your face ;

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And stop and eat, for well you may

Be in a hungry case.
Said John-It is my wedding-day,

And all the world would stare,
If wife should dine at Edmonton,

And I should dine at Ware.
So, turning to his horse, he said-

I am in haste to dine ; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here,

You shall go back for mine. Ab, luckless speech and bootless boast !

For which he paid full dear ; For, while he spake, a braying ass

Did sing most loud and clear.
Whereat his horse did snort, as he

Had heard a lion roar,
And gallop'd off with all his might,

As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went Gilpin's hat and wig !
He lost them sooner than at first,

For why they were too big !
Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw

Her husband posting down Into the country far away,

She pull'd out half-a-crown ; And thus unto the youth she said

That drove them to the Bell This shall be yours when you bring back

My husband safe and well.

The youth did ride, and soon did meet

John coming back amain; Whom in a trice he tried to stop,

By catching at his rein ;

But not performing what he meant,

And gladly would have done,
The frighted steed he frighted more,

And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went post-boy at his heels !The post-boy's horse right glad to miss

The lumb'ring of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,

Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
With post-boy scamp'ring in the rear,

They raised the hue and cry :

Stop thief ! stop thief !ếa highwayman !

Not one of them was mute;
And all and each that pass'd that way

Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike gates again

Flew open in short space ;
The toll-men thinking, as before,

That Gilpin rode a race.

And so he did, and won it too,

For he got first to town;
Nor stopp'd till where he had got up

He did again get down.

Now let us sing, Long live the king,

And Gilpin long live he;
And when he next doth ride abroad,

May I be there to see !



HAT is there in the vale of life

Half so delightful as a wife, When friendship, love, and peace combine To stamp the marriage-bond divine ? The stream of pure and genuine love Derives its current from above; And earth a second Eden shows, Where'er the healing water flows : But ah, if from the dykes and drains Of sensual nature's fev'rish veins, Lust, like a lawless headstrong flood, Impregnated with ooze and mud, Descending fast on every side Once mingles with the sacred tide, Farewell the soul-enliv'ning scene ! The banks that wore a smiling green, With rank defilement overspread, Bewail their flow'ry beauties dead. The stream polluted, dark, and dull, Diffused into a Stygian pool, Through life's last melancholy years Is fed with ever-flowing tears : Complaints supply the zephyr's part, And sighs that heave a breaking heart.

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