Down ran the wine into the road,
Most piteous to be seen,

Which made his horse's flanks to smoke
As they had basted been.

But still he seemed to carry weight,

With leathern girdle braced; For all might see the bottle-necks Still dangling at his waist.

Thus all through merry Islington
These gambols he did play,
Until 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 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:"

Away 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 trim,

Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,

And thus accosted him :

"What news? what news? your tidings tellTell me you must and shallSay why bareheaded 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
In 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,
Returned him not a single word,

But to the house went in.

Whence straight he came with hat and wig;

A wig that flowed behind,

A hat not much the worse for wear,
Each comely in its kind.

He held them up, and in his turn
Thus showed 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;

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.

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 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 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 :

—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 tollmen 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!

THE WATER PARTY.

BY CRABBE.

SOMETIMES a party, rowed from town, will land
On a small islet formed of shelly sand,

Left by the water when the tides are low,
But which the floods, in their return, o'erflow:
There will they anchor, pleased awhile to view
The watery waste, a prospect wild and new;
The now receding billows give them space
On either side the growing shores to pace;
And then returning, they contract the scene,
Till small and smaller grows the walk between ;
As sea to sea approaches, shore to shores,
Till the next ebb the sandy isle restores.

Then what alarm! what danger and dismay,
If all their trust, their boat, should drift away;

And once it happened-Gay the friends advanced,

They walked, they ran, they played, they sang, they danced;
The urns were boiling, and the cups went round,
And not a grave or thoughtful face was found;
On the bright sand they trod with nimble feet,
Dry shelly sand, that made the summer-seat;
The wondering mews flew fluttering o'er the head,
And waves ran softly up their shining bed.

Some formed a party from the rest to stray,
Pleased to collect the trifles in their way;
These to behold they call their friends around;
No friends can hear, or hear another sound:
Alarmed, they hasten, yet perceive not why,
But catch the fear that quickens as they fly.

For lo a lady sage, who paced the sand With her fair children, one in either hand,