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But still he seemed to carry weight,
For all might see the bottle-necks
Thus all through merry Islington
Until he came unto the Wash
And there he threw the wash about
Just like unto a trundling mop,
At Edmonton his loving wife
From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wondering much
To see how he did ride.
"Stop, stop, John Gilpin!—Here's the house," — They all aloud did cry; "The dinner waits, and we are tired:" Said Gilpin—"Soam I."
But yet his horse was not a whit
Inclined to tarry there; For why ?— His owner had a house
Full ten miles off at Ware.
So like an arrow swift he flew,
Shot by an archer strong; So did he fly — which brings me to
The middle of my song.
Away went Gilpin out of breath,
And sore against his will,
His horse at last stood still.
The calender, amazed to see
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
"What news? what news? your tidings tell.
Tell me you must and shall; Say why bare-headed you are come,
Or why you come at all?"
Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,
And loved a timely joke; And thus unto the calender
In merry guise he spoke: —
"I came because your horse would come,
And, if I well forbode. My hat and wig will soon be here — They are upon the road."
The calender, right glad to find
His friend in merry pin. Returned him not R single word,
But to the house went in,
Whence straight he came with hat and wig —
A wig that flowed behind, A hat not much the worse for wear,
Each comely in its kind.
He held them up, and in his turn
"My head is twice as big as yours,
But let me scrape the dirt away
And stop and eat, for well you may
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; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here.
You shall go back for mine."
Ah! luckless speech, and bootless boast!
For which he paid full dear; 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
He lost them sooner than at first;
Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw
Into the country far away,
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
Whom in a trice he tried to stop,
But not performing what he meant,
The frighted steed he frighted more,
Away went Gilpin, and away
The lumbering of the wheels.
Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With post-boy 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!
Words learned by rote, a parrot may rehearse,
But talking is not always to converse;
Not more distinct from harmony divine
The constant creaking of a country sign.
As alphabets in ivory employ Hour after hour the yet unlettered boy,
Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee
Those seeds of science called his ABC;
So language in the mouth of the adult,
(Witness its insignificant result,) Too often proves an implement of play,
A toy to sport with, and pass time away.
Collect at evening what the day
brought forth. Compress the sum into its solid worth, And if it weigh the importance of a
The scales are false, or algebra a lie.
Durius is such a scrupulous good man —
Yes, you may catch him tripping —
if you can. He would not with a peremptory
Assert the nose upon his face his own:
With hesitation admirably slow, He humbly hopes — presumes—it may be so.
His evidence, if he were called by law
To swear to some enormity he saw, For want of prominence and just relief,
Would hang an honest man and save a thief.
Through constant dread of giving
truth offence. He ties up all his hearers in suspense: Knows what he knows as if he knew
What he remembers seems to have forgot;
His sole opinion, whatsoe'er befall, Centring at last in having none at
The emphatic speaker dearly loves
to oppose. In contact inconvenient, nose to nose, As if the gnomon on his neighbor's
Touched with the magnet, had attracted his.
His whispered theme, dilated and at large.
Proves after all a windgun's airy charge —
An extract of his diary,— no more,— A tasteless journey of the day before. He walked abroad, o'ertaken in the rain,
Called on a friend, drank tea, stepped
home again, resumed his purpose, had a world of
With one, he stumbled on, and lost
his walk. I interrupt him with a sudden bow, "Adieu, dear sir! lest you should
lose it now."
Some men employ their health, an
ugly trick. In making known how oft they have
And give us in recitals of disease, A doctor's trouble, but without the fees;
Relate how many weeks they kept
their bed, How an emetic or cathartic sped: Nothing is slightly touched, much
less forgot. Nose, ears, and eyes seem present on
Now the distemper, spite of draught or pill,
Victorious seemed, and now the doctor's skill;
And now — alas, for unforeseen mishaps!
They put on a damp nightcap and relapse:
They thought they must have died,
they were so bad; Their peevish hearers almost wish
A FAITHFUL PICTURE OF ORDINARY SOCIETY.
The circle formed, we sit in silent state,
Like figures drawn upon a dial-plate; "Yes, ma'am," and "No, ma'am,"
uttered softly, show Every five minutes how the minutes
Each individual, suffering a constraint —
Poetry may, but colors cannot, paint,—
As if in close committee on the sky, Reports it hot or cold, or wet or dry,
And finds a changing clime a happy source
Of wise reflection and well-timed
discourse. We next inquire, but softly and by
Like conservators of the public health.
Of epidemic throats, if such there are Of coughs and rheums, and phthisic and catarrh.
That theme exhausted, a wide chasm
Filled up at last with interesting news.
Who danced with whom, and who
are like to wed; And who is hanged, and who is
brought to bed; But fear to call a more important
As if 'twere treason against English laws.
The visit paid, with ecstasy we come, As from a seven years' transportation, home,
And there resume an unembarrassed brow,
Recovering what we lost we know not how.
The faculties that seemed reduced to nought.
Expression and the privilege of thought.
Some fretful tempers wince at every touch,
You always do too little or too much: You speak with life in hopes to entertain,
Your elevated voice goes through the brain;
You fall at once into a lower key. That's worse — the drone-pipe of an
humble-bee. The southern sash admits too strong
You rise and drop the curtain — now
'tis night. He shakes with cold, you stir the fire
and strive To make a blaze — that's roasting
him alive. Serve him with venison, and he
chooses fish; With sole— that's just the sort he
would not wish, he takes what he at first professed to
And in due time feeds heartily on both.
I Shall not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau
If birds confabulate or no;
Than to interpret by the letter,
A story of a cock and bull
Must have a most uncommon skull.
It chanced then on a winter's day, But warm and bright and calm as May.
The birds, conceiving a design
To forestall sweet St. Valentine.
In many an orchard, copse, and grove
Assembled on affairs of love.
And with much twitter and much
chatter Began to agitate the matter. At length a Bulfinch, who could boast More years and wisdom than the
Entreated, opening wide his beak,
The subject upon which we meet;
With golden w ing and satin poll,
"Methinks the gentleman," quoth
"Opposite in the apple-tree.
By his good-will would keep us single
Till yonder heaven and earth shall
mingle; Or (which is likelier to befall) Till death exterminates us all. I marry without more ado; My dear Dick Redcap, what say you?" Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling,
turning short round, strutting, and sidling,
Attested, glad, his approbation
The leaves came on not quite so fast.
Now shifted east, and east by north;
Stepping into their nests they paddled,
Themselves were chilled, their eggs
were addled; Soon every father bird and mother Grew quarrelsome, and pecked each
Parted without the least regret,
Misses! the tale that I relate
Choose not alone a proper mate,
[ From The Newspaper.]
Then, lo! the sainted Monitor is
Whose pious face some sacred texts adorn.
As artful sinners cloak the secret sin, To veil with seeming grace the guile within;
So moral essays on his front appear, But all his carnal business in the rear;
The fresh-coined lie, the secret whispered last.
And all the gleanings of the six days past.
[From The Nttetipaper.)
Grave politicians look for facts alone,
And gravely add conjectures of their own:
The sprightly nymph, who never
broke her rest, For tottering crowns, or mighty lands
Finds broils and battles, but neglects them all
For songs and suits, a birthday, or a ball:
The keen warm man o'erlooks each idle tale
For "Moneys Wanted," and "Estates for Sale;"
While some with equal minds to all attend,
Pleased with each part, and grieved to find an end.
[From The Newspaper"
First, from each brother's hoard a part they draw, A mutual theft that never feared a law;
Whate'er they gain, to each man's
portion fall. And read it once, you read it through
For this their runners ramble day and night,
To drag each lurking deep to open light;