Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, And lov'd a timely joke; I came because your horse would come; My hat and wig will soon be here, 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, So turning to his horse, he said, "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 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 gladly would have done, And inade him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels, The postboy's horse right glad to miss The lumb'ring of the wheels. Six gentlemen upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy scamp'ring in the rear, Stop thief! stop thief! -a highwayman' Not one of them was mute; And all and each that pass'd that way And now the turnpike gates again And so he did, and won it too, Nor stopp'd till where he did get up Now let us sing, long live the king, And when he next doth ride abroad, VOL. I. AN EPISTLE ΤΟ AN AFFLICTED PROTESTANT LADY IN FRANCE. Madam, A STRANGER'S purpose in these lays The path of sorrow, and that path alone, But he, who knew what human hearts would prove, In pity to the souls his grace design'd Call'd for a cloud to darken all their years, And said, "Go, spend them in the vale of tears." O balmy gales of soul-reviving air! O salutary streams that murmur there! These flowing from the fount of grace above, Ah, be not sad, although thy lot be cast Far from the flock, and in a boundless waste! No shepherds' tents within thy view appear, But the chief Shepherd even there is near; Thy tender sorrows, and thy plaintive strain Flow in a foreign land, but not in vain ; Thy tears all issue from a source divine, And ov'ry drop bespeaks a Saviour thineSo once in Gideon's fleece the dews were found, And drought on all the drooping herbs around. |