Their un-cle should poss-ess their wealth;

For so the will did run.

"Now broth-er," said the dy-ing man,
"Look to my chil-dren dear;

Be good un-to my boy and girl,
No friends else have they here.

"You must be fa-ther, moth-er-both,
And un-cle all in one;

God knows what will be-come of them,
When I am dead and gone.

If you do keep them care-ful-ly,
Then God will you re-ward;
But if you oth-er-wise should deal,
God will your deeds re-gard."

The pa-rents be-ing dead and gone,
The chil-dren home he takes,
And brings them straight in-to his house,
Where much of them he makes.

He had not kept these pret-ty babes
A twelve-month and a day,
When for their wealth he did de-vise
To make them both a-way.

He bar-gain'd with two ruf-fians strong,
Who were of fu-rious mood,

That they should take these chil-dren young
And slay them in a wood.

He told his wife an art-ful tale,

He would the chil-dren send

To be brought up in fair Lon-don,
With one that was a friend.

They prate and prat-tle pleas-ant-ly,
As they ride on the way,

To those that should their butch-ers be,
And work their lives' de-cay.

So that the pret-ty speech they held,
Made Mur-der-ers' hearts re-lent :
And they that un-der-took the deed
Full sore did now re-pent.

Yet one of them, more hard of heart,
Did vow to do his charge,
Be-cause the wretch that hired him
Had paid him ver-y large.

The oth-er won't agree there-to,
So here they fell to strife;
With one an-oth-er they did fight

A-bout the chil-dren's life:

And he that was of mild-est mood,
Did slay the oth-er there.
With-in an un-fre-quent-ed wood,
While babes did quake for fear!

He took the chil-dren by the hand,
Tears stand-ing in their eye,
And bade them straight-way fol-low him,

And see they did not cry;

And two long miles he led them on,
While they for food com-plain :

K

"Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread When I come back a-gain."

These pret-ty babes, with hand in hand,
Went wan-der-ing up and down;
But nev-er more could see the man
Ap-proach-ing from the town.

Their pret-ty lips with black-ber-ries
Were all be-smear'd and dyed,
And when they saw the dark-some night,
They sat them down and cried.

Thus wan-dered these poor in-no-cents,
Till death did end their grief,
In one an-oth-er's arms they died,
As want-ing due re-lief.

No bur-i-al this pret-ty pair
Of an-y man re-ceives,
But Rob-in red-breast pi-ous-ly

Did cov-er them with leaves.

And now the heav-y wrath of God

Up-on their un-cle fell;

Yea, fear-ful fiends did haunt his house,

His con-science felt in hell.

His barns were fired, his goods con-sumed,
His lands were barren made,

His cat-tle died with-in the field,
And noth-ing with him stayed.

And in a voy-age to Port-u-gal,
Two of his sons did die ;

And to con-clude, him-self was brought

To want and mis-er-y.

Abridged from Percy's Reliques.

JOHN GILPIN.

JOHN GIL-PIN was a cit-i-zen

Of cred-it and re-nown,
A train-band cap-tain eke was he,
Of fa-mous Lon-don town.

John Gil-pin's spouse said to her dear, "Though wed-ded we have been

These twice ten te-dious years,

Yet we no hol-i-day have seen.

"To-mor-row is our wed-ding day,
And we will then re-pair
Un-to the Bell at Ed-mon-ton,
All in a chaise and pair.”

The mor-ning came, the chaise was brought,

But yet was not al-lowed

To drive up to the door, lest all

Should say that she was proud.

So three doors off the chaise was stayed,

Where they did all get in ;

Six preci-ous souls, and all a-gog,

To dash through thick and thin.

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,

Were nev-er folks so glad ;

The stones did rat-tle un-der-neath,
As if Cheap-side were mad.

Now see John Gil-pin mount-ed well
Up-on his nim-ble steed,

Full slow-ly pa-cing o'er the stones
With cau-tion and good heed.

But find-ing soon a smooth-er road
Be-neath his well shod feet,
The snort-ing beast be-gan to trot,
Which galled him in his seat.

"So, fair and soft-ly!" John he cried;
But John he cried in vain :
That trot be-came a gal-lop soon,
In spite of curb and rein.

So stoop-ing down, as needs he must
Who can-not sit up-right,

He grasped the mane with both his hands
And eke with all his might.

His horse, which nev-er, in that sort,
Had han-dled been be-fore,

What thing up-on his back had got,
Did won-der more and more.

A-way went Gil-pin, neck or nought;
A-way went hat and wig;
He lit-tle dreamt when he set out,
Of run-ning such a rig.

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly

Like stream-ers long and gay,