The Child of Elle he fought so well

As his weapon he waved amaine, That soone he had slain the carlish knighte,

And laid him upon the plaine.
And nowe the baron and all his men

Full fast approached nye:
Ah, what may lady Emmeline doe?

'Twere nowe no boote to flye.
Her lover he put his horne to his mouth,

And blew both loud and shrill,
And soone he sawe his owne merry men

Come ryding over the hill.
“Nowe hold thy hand, thou bold baron,

I pray thee hold thy hand,
Nor ruthless rend two gentle hearts

Fast knit in true love's band.
“Thy daughter I have dearly loved,

Full long and many a day : But with such love as holy kirke

Hath freelye said wee may.
“O give consent shee may be mine,

And bless a faithfull paire ;
My lands and livings are not small,

My house and lineage faire :
“My mother she was an earl's daughter,

And a noble knighte my sire.”
The baron he frown'd and turn'd away

With mickle dole and ire.
Fair Emmeline sigh'd, fair Emmeline wept,

And did all tremblinge stand:
At length she sprang upon her knee,

And held his lifted hand.

“Pardon, my lorde and father deare,

This faire young knighte and mec : Trust me, but for the carlish knighte,

I never had fled from thee. “Oft have you call'd your Emmeline

Your darling and your joye;
0! let not, then, your harsh resolves

Your Emmeline destroye.”
The baron he stroakt his dark-brown cheeke,

And turned his head asyde,
To wipe away the starting teare,

He proudely strave to hyde.
In deep revolving thought he stoode,

And mused a little space;
Then raised fair Emmeline from the grounde,

With many a fond embrace.
“Here, take her, Child of Elle,” he sayd,

And gave her lillye white hand; “Here, take my deare and only child, And with her half

my

land. “Thy father once mine honour wrong'd,

In days of youthful prideDo thou the injurye repayre,

In fondness for thy bride: “And as thou love her, and hold her deare,

Heaven prosper thee and thine! And now my blessing wend wi' thee! My lovelye Emmeline!”

OLD BALLAD.

JOHN GILPIN,

JOHN GILPIN was a citizen

Of credit and renown,
A train-band Captain eke was he

Of famous London town.
John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear-

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 Callender

Will lend his horse to go.”
Quoth Mrs. Gilpin-" That's well said ;

And for that wine is dear,
We will be furnish'd with our own,

Which is both bright and clear.”

John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife,

O'erjoy'd he was 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 allow'd
To drive up to the door, lest all

Should say that she was proud.
So three doors off the chaise was stay'd,

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 wheel!

Were never folk 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 saddle-tree scarce reach'd 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. 'Twas 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

Equipp'd from top to toe,
His long red cloak well brush'd 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 gall’d 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.
So stooping down, as needs he must

Who cannot sit upright,
He grasp'd the mane with both his hands

And eke with all his might.