And now, as he went bowing down His reeking head full low, The bottles twain behind his back Down ran the wine into the road, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been. But still he seem'd to carry weight, · Thus all through merry Islington And there he threw the wash about On both sides of the way, Just like unto a trundling mop, Or a wild goose at play. At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wond'ring much To see how he did ride. Stop, stop, John Gilpin!-Here's the house' They all at once did cry; 'The dinner waits, and we are tir'd:' Said Gilpin- So am I!' But yet his horse was not a whit For why?--his owner had a house So like an arrow swift he flew, Away went Gilpin out of breath, The calender, amaz'd to see His neighbour in such trim, And thus accosted him: 'What news? what news? your tidings tell; Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, And lov'd a timely joke! And thus unto the calender In merry guise he spoke: 'I came because your horse would come; And, if I well forebode, My hat and wig will soon be here, They are upon the road.' The calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin, Return'd him not a single word, But to the house went in; Whence straight he came with hat and wig; 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, So turning to his horse, he said, 'I am in haste to dine; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast! For, while he spake, a braying ass Whereat his horse did snort, as he And gallop'd off with all his might, Away went Gilpin, and away Now mistress Gilpin, when she saw She pull'd out half a crown; 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 Went postboy at his heels, The postboy's horse right glad to miss Six gentlemen upon the road, With postboy scamp'ring in the rear, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, They rais'd the hue and cry :- 'Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman!' And all and each that pass'd that way And now the turnpike gates ágain And so he did, and won it too, Nor stopp'd till where he had got up Now let us sing, long live the king, And, when he next doth ride abroad, May I be there to see! Cowper. THE YEARLY DISTRESS; OR, TITHING TIME AT STOCK, IN ESSEX. Verses addressed to a country clergyman complaining of the disagreeableness of the day annually appointed for receiving the dues at the parsonage. COME, ponder well, for 'tis no jest, To laugh it would be wrong, The troubles of a worthy priest, The burden of my song. |