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Seite 184 - For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, His journey to begin, When, turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in. So down he came; for loss of time, Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, Would trouble him much more. 'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came down stairs, 'The wine is left behind!' ' Good lack,' quoth he — ' yet bring it me, My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword, When I do exercise.
Seite 189 - And all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmonton, And I should dine at Ware!" 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.
Seite 48 - Yon cottager, who weaves at her own door, Pillow and bobbins all her little store, Content though mean, and cheerful if not gay, Shuffling her threads about the livelong day, Just earns a scanty pittance, and at night, Lies down secure, her heart and pocket light...
Seite 187 - Wash Of Edmonton so gay; 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, wondering 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 tired;"— Said Gilpin, "So am I!
Seite 185 - So, fair and softly, John he cried, But John he cried in vain ; That trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein.
Seite 104 - He loved the world that hated him : the tear That dropp'd upon his Bible was sincere ; Assail'd by scandal and the tongue of strife, His only answer was a blameless life ; And he that forged, and he that threw the dart, Had each a brother's interest in his heart.
Seite 218 - Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay; Nor soon he felt his strength decline, Or courage die away: But waged with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life.
Seite 217 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary! For could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Seite 188 - His neighbour in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him: 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!