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John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen. de-To-morrow is our wedding-day, And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton, All in a chaise and pair.
The friendly succour of your healing hands;
A strict integrity, devoid of art;
The sweetest manners, and sincerest heart;
A soul, where depth of sense and fancy meet A judgment brighten'd by the beams of witWere ever yours: be what you were before, Be still yourself; the world can ask no more.
$167. The Enquiry. Written in the last Century. AMONGST the myrtles as I walk'd,
Love and my sighs thus intertalk'd: Tell me, said I, in deep distress, Where may I find my shepherdess?" "Thou fool, said Love, know'st thou not this? "In every thing that's good, she is ; "In yonder tulip go and seek, "There thou may'st find her lip, her cheek; "In yon enamell'd pansy by, "There thou shalt have her curious eye; "In bloom of peach, in rosy bud, "There wave the streamers of her blood; "In brightest lilies that there stand, "The emblems of her whiter hand; "In yonder rising hill there smell "Such sweets as in her bosom dwell: "Tis true," said he. And thereupon I went to pluck them one by one, To make of parts an union; But on a sudden all was gone. With that I stopp'd. Said Love, "These be, "Fond man, resemblances of thee; "And as these flow'rs thy joy shall die, "E'en in the twinkling of an eye; "And all thy hopes of her shall wither, "Like these short sweets that knit together."
My sister and my sister's child,
On horseback after we.
He soon replied, I do admire
Of woman kind but one;
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 Mistress 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; That, though on pleasure she was bent, O'erjoy'd was he to find 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 wh Were never folks so glad; The stones did rattle underneath As if Cheapside were mad, John Gilpin at his horse's side.
Seiz'd 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, When turning round his head, he saw His journey to begin,
Three customers come in.
So down he came; for loss of time,
Would trouble him much more. 'Twas long before the customers
Were suited to their mind; When Betty screaming eame down stair, "The wine is left behind !" Good lack! quoth he-yet bring it me,
My leathern belt likewise,
In which I bear my trusty sword
Wow Mistress Gilpin, careful soul!
is long red cloak, well brush'd and neat, He manfully id throw.
ow see him mounted once again Upon his nimble steed, all slowly pacing o'er the stones With caution and good heed. at finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well-shod feet, e snorting beast began to trot. Which gall'd him in his seat. , fair and softly, John, he cried, But John he cried in vain ; mat trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein. stooping down, as needs he must Who cannot sit upright,
grasp'd the mane with both his hands, Aad eke with all his might.
s horse, who newer in that sort
vay went Gilpin, neck or nought,
e wind did blow, the cloak did fly,
1, loop and button failing both,
en might all people well discern
e dogs did bark, the children scream'd, Up flew the windows all :
d ev'ry soul cried out, Well done! As loud as he could bawl. way went Gilpin-who but he; His fame soon spread around-carries weight! he rides a race! Tis for a thousand pound. d still as fast as he drew near Twas wonderful to view w in a trice the turnpike-men Their gates wide open threw.
now as he went bowing down His reeking head full low,
e bottles twain behind his back Were shatter'd at a blow,
|Down ran the wine into the road,
Most piteous to be seen,
Which made his horse's flanks to smoke
But still he seem'd to carry weight,
And there he threw the wash about
Her tender husband, wond'ring much
Stop, stop, John Gilpin! here's the house--
The dinner waits, and we are tir'd:
But yet his horse was not a whit
Full ten miles off, at Ware.
Away went Gilpin, out of breath,
His horse at last stood still.
The callender, amaz'd to see
What news! what news! your tidings tell,
Tell me you inust and shall—
Say why bare-headed you are come,
I came because your horse would come,
When straight he came with hat and wig, -
A hat not much the worse for wear,
He held them up, and in his turn
Said John, It is my wedding day;
And all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmonton, And I should dine at Ware. So turning to his horse, he said, I am in haste to dine: 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, You shall go back for mine. Ah luckless speech, and bootless For which he paid full dear; For while he spake a braying ass Did sing most loud and clear; Whereat his horse did snort, as he
Had heard a lion roar ;
And gallop'd off with all his might,
Went Gilpin's hat and wig;
And thus unto the youth she said
The youth did ride, and soon did meet
But not performing what he meant,
Away went Gilpin, and away
And so he did, and won it too,
Now let us sing, Long live the king,
And when he next doth ride abroad,
$169. An Evening Contemplation in a Colleg in Imitation of Gray's Elegy in a Country Church-yard. DUNCOM THE Curfew tolls the hour of closing gates.
With jarring sound the porter turns the ket Then in his dreary mansion slumb'ring waits, And slowly, sternly, quits it though for u Now shine the spires beneath the paly moon, And thro' the cloisters peace and silence reiz Save where some fidler scrapes a drowsy tune,
Or copious bowls inspire a jovial strain; Save that in yonder cobweb-mantled room, Where sleeps a student in profound repes Oppress'd with ale, wide echoes thro' the gl The droning music of his vocal nose. Within those walls, where through the mering shade
Appear the pamphlets in a mouldering her Each in his narrow bed till morning laid,
The peaceful fellows of the college sleep. The tinkling bell proclaiming early pray's, The noisy servants rattling o'er their be The calls of business, and domestic cares, Ne'er rouse these sleepers from their do No chattering females crowd their social
No dread have they of discord and of st Unknown the names of husband and of Unfelt the plagues of matrimonial life. Oft have they bask'd beneath the sunny # Oft have the benches bow'd beneath
ɔme Pelham, dreadful to his country's foes. in prince and people to command applause, fidst ermin'd peers to guide the high debate,
Haply some friend may shake his hoary head
from the giddy town's tumultuous strife,
who, to thoughtless ignorance a prey,
shield Britannia's and Religion's laws,
yet forbids; nor circumscribes alone
ids in Freedom's veil t'insult the throne;
"Then in the garden chose a sunny walk,
"One morn we miss'd him at the hour of prayer, "Nor in the hall, nor on his favourite green: "Another came, nor yet within the chair,
"Nor yet at bowls or chapel was he seen. "The next we heard that in a neighbouring "shire,
"That day to church he led a blushing bride, A nymph whose snowy vest and maiden fear Improv'd her beauty while the knot was "tied.
ports attract the lawyer's parting eyes, ovels Lord Fopling and Sir Flume require; songs and plays the voice of Beauty cries, nd Sense and Nature Grandison desire. thee, who, mindful of thy lov'd compeers, ost in these lines their artless tale relate, hance, with prying search, in future years, ome antiquarian should inquire thy fate;
ill the madding crowd's perverted mind
And social quiet marks me for her own.
Two gifts my endless gratitude engage— A wife, the joy and transport of my youth:
Now with a son, the comfort of my age. Seck not to draw me from this kind retreat,
In lofter spheres unit, untaught to move; Content with calm domestic life, where meet The sweets of friendship, and the smiles of love.
Now, by his patron's bounteous care remov'd,
Alike to fortune and to fame unknown:
$170. The Three Warnings. A Tale. By Mrs. THRALE. T
HE tree of deepest root is found Least willing still to quit the ground; 'Twas therefore said by ancient sages,
That love of life increas'd with years
When sports went round, and all were gay,
With you? and quit my Susan's side?
His reasons could not well be stronger;
Of cruelty upon my name,
To give you time for preparation,
In hopes you'll have no more to say, • But when I call again this way,
Well pleas'd the world, will leave.' To these conditions both consented, And parted perfectly contented.
What next the hero of our tale befel,
Nor thought of death as near;
He pass'd his hours in peace:
Brought on his eightieth year.
And now, one night, in musing mood,
'Tis six-and-thirty-years at least,
And you are now fourscore.'
So much the worse,' the clown rejoin'd;
To the aged would be kind;
However, see your search be legal;
And your authority--is 't regal?
Else you are come on a fool's errand,
Besides, you promis'd me three warnings,
Which I have look'd for nights and mornings! But for that loss of time and ease,
I can recover damages.'
'I know,' cries Death, that, at the best, I seldom am a welcome guest; But don't be captions, friend, at least: I little thought you'd still be able To stump about your farm and stable; Your years have run to a great length; I wish you joy, tho', of your strength! Hold,' says the farmer, not so fast! I have been lame these four years past." And no great wonder,' Death replies: However, you still keep your eyes; And sure to see one's loves and friends, For legs and arms would make amends.
Perhaps,' says Dobson, so it might, But latterly I've lost my sight."
This is a shocking story, faith; Yet there's some comfort still,' says Dea Each strives your sadness to amuse; I warrant you hear all the news.'
There's none,'cries he; and if there wer 'I'm grown so deaf, I could not hear.' Nay, then!' the spectre stern rejoin'd,
These are unjustifiable yearnings; If you are lame, and deaf, and blind, You have had your three sufficient warni So come along, no more we'll part:' He said, and touch'd him with his dart; And now old Dobson turning pale, Yields to his fate-so ends my tale.
§ 171. The Cit's Country Bor. LLOYD Vos sapere, et solos aio bene vivere, quorur Conspicitur nitidis fundata pecunia villis. Ho THE wealthy cit, grown old in trade,
Now wishes for the rural shade, And buckles to his one-horse chair Old Dobbin, or the founder'd mare; While wedg'd in closely by his side, Sits Madam, his unwieldy bride, With Jacky on a stool before 'em, And out they jog in due decorum. Searce past the turnpike half a mile,
How all the country seems to smile!' And as they slowly jog together,
The cit commends the road and weather:
What signifies the loads of wealth,
Sir Traffic has a house, you know,