For while he spake, a braying ass Whereat his horse did snort as he And galloped off with all his might, Away went Gilpin, and away 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, The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain, Whom in a trice he tried to stop But not performing what he meant, Away went Gilpin, and away The postboy's horse right glad to miss Six gentlemen upon the road With postboy scampering in the rear, "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, 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, 188 AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. DEAR JOSEPH,-five and twenty years ago- ('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, Whence comes it, then, that in the wane of life, Lest he should trespass, begged to go abroad. 66 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, But not to moralise too much, and strain Oh happy Britain! we have not to fear Once have the sanction of our triple state, Some few that I have known in days of old TO MARY. THE twentieth year is well-nigh past 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, My Mary! For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil My Mary! |