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 galloped off with all his might,
As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin's hat and wig;
He lost them sooner than at first,
For why?—they were too big.

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw

Her husband posting down

Into the country far away,

She pulled 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 gladly would have done,
The frighted steed he frighted more,
And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away
Went postboy at his heels,

The postboy's horse right glad to miss
The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With postboy scampering in the rear,
They raised the hue and cry:

"Stop thief! stop thief !—a highwayman!"

Not one of them was mute;

And all and each that passed that way

Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike gates again

Flew open in short space,
The tollmen thinking, as before,

That Gilpin rode a race.

And so he did, and won it too,

For he got first to town ;

Nor stopped till where he had got up

He did again get down.

Now let us sing, "Long live the king,

And Gilpin, long live he;

And when he next doth ride abroad,
May I be there to see!"

188

AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.

AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.

DEAR JOSEPH,-five and twenty years ago-
Alas, how time escapes!-'tis even so-
With frequent intercourse, and always sweet
And always friendly, we were wont to cheat
A tedious hour-and now we never meet.
As some grave gentleman in Terence says

('Twas therefore much the same in ancient days),

66

Good lack, we know not what to-morrow bringsStrange fluctuation of all human things!

True. Changes will befall, and friends may part,
But distance only cannot change the heart:
And were I called to prove the assertion true,
One proof should serve a reference to you.

Whence comes it, then, that in the wane of life,
Though nothing have occurred to kindle strife,
We find the friends we fancied we had won,
Though numerous once, reduced to few or none?
Can gold grow worthless that has stood the touch ?
No. Gold they seemed, but they were never such.
Horatio's 'servant once, with bow and cringe,
Swinging the parlour-door upon its hinge,
Dreading a negative, and overawed

Lest he should trespass, begged to go abroad.

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Go, fellow !—whither ?"-turning short about— "Nay. Stay at home; you're always going out."""Tis but a step, sir; just at the street's end." “For what ? "—" An please you, sir, to see a friend."

AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.

"A friend!" Horatio cried, and seemed to start; "Yea, marry shalt thou, and with all my heartAnd 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 pinched him close, Else he was seldom bitter or morose.

Perhaps, his confidence just then betrayed,

189

His grief might prompt him with the speech he made;

Perhaps 'twas mere good-humour gave it birth,
The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth.
Howe'er it was, his language in my mind
Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind.

But not to moralise too much, and strain
To prove an evil of which all complain
(I hate long arguments, verbosely spun),
One story more, dear Hill, and I have done.
Once on a time, an emperor, a wise man,
No matter where, in China or Japan,
Decreed that whosoever should offend
Against the well-known duties of a friend,
Convicted once, should ever after wear
But half a coat, and show his bosom bare;
The punishment importing this, no doubt,
That all was naught within and all found out.

Oh happy Britain! we have not to fear
Such hard and arbitrary measure here;
Else could a law, like that which I relate,

Once have the sanction of our triple state,

Some few that I have known in days of old
Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold.
While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow,
Might traverse England safely to and fro,
An honest man, close buttoned to the chin,
Broad-cloth without, and a warm heart within.

TO MARY.

THE twentieth year is well-nigh past
Since first our sky was overcast,

Ah, would that this might be the last!

Thy spirits have a fainter flow,

I see thee daily weaker grow—

My Mary!

'Twas my distress that brought thee low,

My Mary!

Thy needles, once a shining store,
For my sake restless heretofore,
Now rust disused, and shine no more,

My Mary!

For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil
The same kind office for me still,
Thy sight now seconds not thy will,

My Mary!