Deep draughts drink we right willingly;
And willingly ring, with merry call,
Kling! klang! to the Luck of Edenhall!”

First rings it deep, and full, and mild,
Like to the song of a nightingale;
Then like the roar of a torrent wild;
Then mutters at last like the thunder's fall,
The glorious Luck of Edenhall.

"For its keeper takes a race of might,
The fragile goblet of crystal tall;
It has lasted longer than is right;

Kling! klang! — with a harder blow than all
Will I try the Luck of Edenhall!”

As the goblet ringing flies apart,
Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall;

And through the rift the wild flames start;
The guests in dust are scattered all,
With the breaking Luck of Edenhall!"

In storms the foe, with fire and sword;
He in the night had scaled the wall.
Slain by the sword lies the youthful Lord,
But holds in his hands the crystal tall,
The shattered Luck of Edenhall.

On the morrow the butler gropes alone,
The graybeard in the desert hall,
He seeks his Lord's burnt skeleton,

He seeks in the dismal ruin's fall

The shards of the Luck of Edenhall.

"The stone wall," saith he, "doth fall aside,
Down must the stately columns fall;
Glass is this earth's Luck and Pride;
In atoms shall fall this earthly ball
One day like the Luck of Edenhall ! ”

Johann Ludwig Uhland.

Tr. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

Edmonton.

THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN,

SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN.

OHN GILPIN was a citizen

JOHN

Of credit and renown,

A trainband captain eke was he
Of famous London town.

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear,

66

Though wedded we have been

These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen.

"To-morrow is our wedding-day,
And we will then repair

Unto the Bell at Edmonton,
All in a chaise and pair.

"My sister, and my sister's child,
Myself, and children three,

Will fill the chaise; so you must ride
On horseback after we."

He soon replied, “I do admire
Of womankind but one,

And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.

"I am a linen-draper bold,

As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender Will lend his horse to go."

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said;
And for that wine is dear,

We will be furnished with our own,
Which is both bright and clear.”

John Gilpin kissed his loving wife;
O'erjoyed was he to find,

That, though on pleasure she was bent,

She had a frugal mind.

The morning came; the chaise was brought, But yet was not allowed

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 precious souls, and all agog

To dash through thick and thin.

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels;

Were never folks so glad!

The stones did rattle underneath,

As if Cheapside were mad.

John Gilpin at his horse's side
Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again;

For saddletree scarce reached had he,
His journey to begin,

When, turning round his head, he saw
Three customers come in.

So down he came; for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
Would trouble him much more.

'T was long before the customers Were suited to their mind,

When Betty screaming came down stairs, "The wine is left behind!"

"Good lack!" quoth he; "yet bring it me, My leathern belt likewise,

In which I bear my trusty sword
When I do exercise."

Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!)
Had two stone bottles found,
To hold the liquor that she loved,
And keep it safe and sound.

Each bottle had a curling ear,
Through which the belt he drew,
And hung a bottle on each side
To make his balance true.

Then over all, that he might be
Equipped from top to toe,

His long red cloak, well brushed and neat,
He manfully did throw.

Now see him mounted once again

Upon his nimble steed,

Full slowly pacing o'er the stones
With caution and good heed.

But finding soon a smoother road
Beneath his well shod feet,
The snorting beast began to trot,
Which galled him in his seat.

So, fair and softly, John he cried,
But John he cried in vain;
That trot became a gallop soon,
In spite of curb and rein.