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 postboy at his heels,

The postboy's horse right glad to miss.

The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With postboy 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 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!

TRANSLATIONS FROM VINCENT BOURNE.

I. THE GLOW-WORM.

BENEATH the hedge, or near the stream,

A worm is known to stray,
That shows by night a lucid beam,
Which disappears by day.

Disputes have been, and still prevail,

From whence his rays proceed;

Some give that honour to his tail,
And others to his head.

But this is sure-the hand of might,
That kindles up the skies,
Gives him a modicum of light
Proportion'd to his size.

Perhaps indulgent Nature meant,
By such a lamp bestow'd,
To bid the traveller, as he went,
Be careful where he trod :

Nor crush a worm, whose useful light
Might serve, however small,
To show a stumbling stone by night,
And save him from a fall.

Whate'er she meant, this truth divine Is legible and plain,

'Tis Power almighty bids him shine, Nor bids him shine in vain.

Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme
Teach humbler thoughts to you,

Since such a reptile has its gem,
And boasts its splendour too.

II. THE JACKDAW.

THERE is a bird who, by his coat,
And by the hoarseness of his note,
Might be supposed a crow;
A great frequenter of the church,
Where, bishoplike, he finds a perch,
And dormitory too.

Above the steeple shines a plate,
That turns and turns, to indicate

From what point blows the weather;
Look up your brains begin to swim,
'Tis in the clouds-that pleases him,
He chooses it the rather.

Fond of the speculative height,
Thither he wings his airy flight,
And thence securely sees
The bustle and the raree-show

That оссиру mankind below,

Secure and at his ease.

You think, no doubt, he sits and muses
On future broken bones and bruises,
If he should chance to fall.
No; not a single thought like that
Employs his philosophic pate,
Or troubles it at all.

He sees that this great roundabout,
The world, with all its motley rout,
Church, army, physic, law,

Its customs, and its businesses,
Is no concern at all of his,

And says-what says he?-Caw.

Thrice happy bird! I too have seen Much of the vanities of men;

And, sick of having seen 'em, Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine,

And such a head between 'em.

IN painted plumes superbly dress'd,
A native of the gorgeous east,
By many a billow toss'd;

Poll gains at length the British shore,
Part of the captain's precious store,
A present to his toast.

Belinda's maids are soon preferr'd
To teach him now and then a word,
As Poll can master it;

But 'tis her own important charge
To qualify him more at large,

And make him quite a wit.