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 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 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 first 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!

--COWPER.

TO THE LILY OF THE VALLEY.
FAIR flower, that lapt in lowly glade,
Dost hide beneath the greenwood shade,

Than whom the vernal gale

None fairer wakes on bank or spray,

Our England's lily of the May,

Our lily of the vale.

Art thou that "lily of the field,"
Which, when the Saviour sought to shield
The heart from blank despair,

He showed to our mistrustful kind,
An emblem to the thoughtful mind
Of God's paternal care?

Not thus I trow: for brighter shine
To the warm skies of Palestine
Those children of the East.-
There, when mild autumn's early rain
Descends on parched Esdrela's plain,
And Tabor's oak-girt crest—

More frequent than the host of night,
Those earth-born stars, as sages write,
Their brilliant disks unfold;
Fit symbol of imperial state

Their sceptre-seeming forms elate,
And crowns of burnished gold.

But not the less, sweet springtide's flower,
Dost thou display the Maker's power,
His skill and handiwork,

Our western valley's humbler child;
Where in green nook of woodland wild
Thy modest blossoms lurk.

What though nor care nor art be thine,
The loom to ply, the thread to twine;

Yet, born to bloom and fade,
Thee, too, a lovelier robe arrays,
Than e'er in Israel's brightest days
Her wealthiest king arrayed.

green;

Of thy twin leaves the embowered screen
Which wraps thee in thy shroud of
Thy Eden-breathing smell;
Thy arched and purple-vested stem,
Whence pendent many a pearly gem,
Displays a milk-white bell:

Instinct with life thy fibrous root,

Which sends from earth the ascending shoot,

As rising from the dead,

And fills thy veins with verdant juice,
Charged thy fair blossoms to produce,
And berries scarlet red;

The triple cell, the twofold seed,
A ceaseless treasure-house decreed,
Whence aye thy race may grow,
As from creation they have grown,
While spring shall weave her flowery crown,
Or vernal breezes blow:

Who forms thee thus with unseen hand;
Who at creation gave command,

And willed thee thus to be,
And keeps thee still in being through
Age after age revolving, who

But the Great God is he?

Omnipotent to work His will;
Wise, who contrives each part to fill
The post to each assigned;
Still provident, with sleepless care
To keep; to make the sweet and fair
For man's enjoyment, kind!

"There is no God," the senseless

say:

"O God, why cast'st thou us away?"

Of feeble faith and frail,

The mourner breathes his anxious thought—

By thee a better lesson taught,

Sweet lily of the vale.

Yes! He who made and fosters thee,

In reason's eye perforce must be

Of majesty divine;

Nor deems she that His guardian care
Will He in man's support forbear,

Who thus provides for thine.

-Field Naturalist's Magazine.