Thus all through merry Islington These gambols did he play, Until he came unto the Wash Of Edmonton so gay; And there he threw the wash about At Edmonton, his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wondering 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 For why?—his owner had a house So, like an arrow swift he flew, Away went Gilpin out of breath, His horse at last stood still. The Callender, amazed to see His neighbour in such trim, What news? what news? your tidings tell; Or why you come at all? Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, I came because your horse would come; My hat and wig will soon be here, The Callender, right glad to find Whence straight he came with hat and wig; A wig that flow'd behind, A hat not much the worse for wear, He held them up, and in his turn But let me scrape the dirt away, Said John, It is my wedding-day, So, turning to his horse, he said, 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, You shall go back for mine. Ah! luckless speech, and bootless boast! Whereat his horse did snort, as he Away went Gilpin, and away Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw 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 But not performing what he meant, Away went Gilpin, and away The postboy's horse right glad to miss Six gentlemen upon the road, With postboy scampering in the rear, Stop thief! stop thief!-a 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 Now let us sing, Long live the king, And Gilpin, long live he; And, when he next doth ride abroad, TRANSLATIONS FROM VINCENT BOURNE. I. THE GLOW-WORM. BENEATH the hedge, or near the stream, A worm is known to stray, Disputes have been, and still prevail, Some give that honour to his tail, But this is sure-the hand of might, That kindles up the skies, Proportion'd to his size. |