Now when Sir Humphrey heard this welcome news
He said, for joy, “God bless my buckle-shoes,”[231]
And to his wife—“I think, dear Lady B——,
Betwixt your loyal ladyship and me,
There is no time to lose—so I’ll go down
And have an interview with Champernown:”[232]
He went: and soon a numerous gathering
Propounded measures for a welcoming;
Which (came to pass with almost regal state)
Greeted the noble Lord of Rollingate:—
The streets were spann’d with flags of every shade,
Bearing the mottoes of each goodly trade;
From door to door were planted shrubs and flowers,
Transforming houses into Sylvan bowers
Six furlongs distant ’rose t’endear the eye,[233]
Two triple arches, each one bore on high
A crimson banner ring’d with bullion gold;
Whose meet inscriptions adequately told
(In silvery letters, more than tongue can tell)
Th’ excessive joy which reign’d at Ruttendell.
[231] A quaint expression which Sir H. B. had acquired when any new
sentiment of pleasure inspired his heart.
[232] Mr. Frederick Champernown, stationer and news-agent.
[233] At each end of the town.