So like an arrow swift he flew, So did he fly-which brings me to Away went Gilpin out of breath, His horse at last stood still. The calender, amaz'd to see His neighbour in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him: "What news? what news? your tidings tell; Tell me you must and shall Say why bareheaded you are come, Or why you come at all ?" Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, "I came because your horse would come; My hat and wig will soon be here, They are upon the road." The calender, right glad to find But to the house went in: Whence straight he came with hat and wig; A wig that flow'd behind, A hat not much the worse for wear, He held them up, and in his turn "But let me scrape the dirt away, Said John," It is my wedding-day, If wife should dine at Edmonton, So turning to his horse, he said, "I am in haste to dine; 'T was for your pleasure you came here, Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast! Whereat his horse did snort, as he And gallop'd off with all his might, Away went Gilpin, and away He lost them sooner than at first, Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw Into the country far away, She pull'd 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 made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away The postboy's horse right glad to miss The lumb'ring of the wheels. Six gentlemen upon the road, With postboy scamp'ring in the rear, They rais'd the hue and cry: "Stop thief! stop thief! a highwayman!" Not one of them was mute; And all and each that pass'd that way Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again That Gilpin rode a race. And so he did, and won it too, Nor stopp'd till where he had got up He did again get down. Now let us sing, Long live the King, And, when he next doth ride abroad, AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, Esq. DEAR JOSEPH five-and-twenty years ago- As some grave gentleman in Terence says, ('T was therefore much the same in ancient days,) Good lack, we know not what to-morrow brings - Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go abroad. "Go, fellow!-whither ?"-turning short about "Nay. Stay at home-you 're always going out." "'T is but a step, sir, just at the street's end." "For what?"—" An please you, sir, to see a friend." "A friend!" Horatio cried, and seem'd to start"Yea marry shalt thou, and with all my heart. And fetch my cloak; for, though the night be raw, I'll see him too -the first I ever saw. I knew the man, and knew his nature mild, And was his plaything often when a child; But somewhat at that moment pinch'd him close, Else he was seldom bitter or morose. Perhaps his confidence just then betray'd, His grief might prompt him with the speech he made; Perhaps 't was mere good-humour gave it birth, The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth. |