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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 gallop'd off with all his might,
As he had done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin's hat and wig ;
He lost them sooner than at first,
For why-they were too big.

Now mistress Gilpin, when she saw
Her husband posting down

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,
The frighted steed he frighted more,
And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went postboy at his heels,

The postboy's horse right glad to niss The lumb'ring of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,

Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With postboy scamp'ring in the rear,
They rais'd the hue and cry:—

Stop thief! stop thief! -a highwayman!

Not one of them was mute;

And all and each that pass'd that way
Did join in the pursuit.

And now the turnpike gates again
Flew open in short space;
The toll-men thinking as before,
That Gilpin rode a race.

And so he did, and won it too,
For he got first to town;

Nor stopp'd till where he did get 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!

VOL. L.

AN EPISTLE

TO

AN AFFLICTED PROTESTANT LADY

IN FRANCE.

Madam,

A STRANGER'S purpose in these lays
Is to congratulate, and not to praise.
To give the creature the Creator's due
Were sin in me, and an offence to you.
From man to man, or e'en to woman paid
Praise is the medium of a knavish trade,
A coin by Craft for Folly's use design'd,
Spurious, and only current with the blind.

The path of sorrow, and that path alors
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown •
No trav❜ller ever reach'd that blest abode,
Who found not thorns and briers in the road.
The World may dance along the flow'ry plain,
Cheer'd as they go by many a sprightly strain,
Where Nature has her mossy velvet spread,
With unshod feet they yet securely tread;
Admonish'd, scorn the caution and the friend,
Bent all on pleasure, heedless of its end.

But he, who knew what human hearts would prove,
How slow to learn the dictates of his love,
That, hard by nature and of stubborn will,
A life of ease would make them harder still,

In pity to the souls his grace design'd
To rescue from the ruins of mankind,

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,
Those breath'd from lips of everlasting love.
The flinty soil indeed their feet annoys;
Chill blasts of trouble nip their springing joys;
An envious world will interpose its frown.
To mar delights superiour to its own
And many a pang, experienc'd still within
Remind them of their hated inmate, sin;
But ills of ev'ry shade and ev'ry name,
Transform'd to blessings, miss their cruel aim;
And ev'ry moment's calm, that soothes the breast,
Is giv'n in earnest of eternal rest.

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.

TO THE

REV. W. CAWTHORNE UNWIN

I.

UNWIN, I should but ill repay

The kindness of a friend,
Whose worth deserves as warm a lay

As ever friendship penn'd,

Thy name omitted in a page

That would reclaim a vicious age.

II.

A union form'd, as mine with thee,
Not rashly, nor in sport,
May be as fervent in degree,
And faithful in its sort,

And may as rich in comfort prove,
As that of true fraternal love.

III.

The bud inserted in the rind,
The bud of peach or rose,
Adorns, though diff'ring in its kind,
The stock whereon it grows,
With flow'r as sweet, or fruit as fair,
As if produc'd by Nature there.

IV.

Not rich, I render what I may,
I seize thy name in haste,
And place it in this first essay,

Lest this should prove the last.
"Tis where it should be-in a plan,
That holds in view the good of man.

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