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,

Ah 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 galloped 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 pulled out half a crown ;

And thus unto the youth she said,
That drove them to the Bell,

This shall ye your's 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 lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With post-boy scampering in the rear,
They raised the hue and cry :-

Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman!

Not one of them was mute;

And all and each that passed 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 stopped 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!

TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON.

AN INVITATION INTO THE COUNTRY.

I.

THE Swallows in their torpid state

Compose their useless wing,

And bees in hives as idly wait

The call of early spring.

II.

The keenest frost that binds the stream,

The wildest wind that blows,

Are neither felt nor feared by them,

Secure of their repose.

III.

But man, all feeling and awake,

The gloomy scene surveys;

With present ills his heart must ake,
And pant for brighter days.
IV.

Old winter, halting o'er the mead,
Bids me and Mary mourn;

But lovely spring peeps o'er his head,
And whispers your return.
V.

Then April, with her sister May,
Shall chase him from the bowers,
And weave fresh garlands every day,
To crown the smiling hours.

VI.

And, if a tear, that speaks regret
Of happier times, appear,

A glimpse of joy, that we have met,
Shall shine and dry the tear,

CATHARINA.

ADDRESSED TO MISS STAPLETON.

(NOW MRS. COURTNEY.)

SHE came-she is gone-we have met-
And meet perhaps never again;
The sun of that moment is set,

And seems to have risen in vain.
Catharina has fled like a dream-
(So vanishes pleasure, alas!)
But has left a regret and esteem,
That will not so suddenly pass.

The last evening ramble we made,
Catharina, Maria, and I,
Our progress was often delayed

By the nightingale warbling nigh.

We paused under many a tree,

And much she was charmed with a tone

Less sweet to Maria and me,

Who had witnessed so lately her own.

My numbers that day she had sung,

And gave

them a grace so divine,

As only her musical tongue

Could infuse into numbers of mine.