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And stop and eat, for well you may
Be in a hungry case.

Said John-It is my wedding-day,
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.

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 post-boy at his heels!The post-boy's horse right glad to miss The lumb'ring of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With post-boy scamp'ring 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 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 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!

LOVE ABUSED.

HAT is there in the vale of life

WH

Half so delightful as a wife,

When friendship, love, and peace combine
To stamp the marriage-bond divine?
The stream of pure and genuine love
Derives its current from above;
And earth a second Eden shows,
Where'er the healing water flows:
But ah, if from the dykes and drains
Of sensual nature's fev'rish veins,
Lust, like a lawless headstrong flood,
Impregnated with ooze and mud,
Descending fast on every side
Once mingles with the sacred tide,
Farewell the soul-enliv'ning scene!
The banks that wore a smiling green,
With rank defilement overspread,
Bewail their flow'ry beauties dead.
The stream polluted, dark, and dull,
Diffused into a Stygian pool,
Through life's last melancholy years
Is fed with ever-flowing tears:
Complaints supply the zephyr's part,
And sighs that heave a breaking heart.

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A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LADY AUSTEN.

DE

EAR ANNA,-Between friend and friend,
Prose answers every common end;

Serves, in a plain and homely way,

T'express th' occurrence of the day;
Our health, the weather, and the news;
What walks we take, what books we choose ;
And all the floating thoughts we find
Upon the surface of the mind.

But when a poet takes the pen,
Far more alive than other men,
He feels a gentle tingling come
Down to his finger and his thumb,
Derived from Nature's noblest part,
The centre of a glowing heart:

And this is what the world, who knows
No flights above the pitch of prose,
His more sublime vagaries slighting,
Denominates an itch for writing.
No wonder I, who scribble rhyme
To catch the triflers of the time,
And tell them truths divine and clear,

Which, couch'd in prose, they will not hear

Who labour hard t' allure and draw

The loiterers I never saw,

Should feel that itching, and that tingling,

With all my purpose intermingling,

To your intrinsic merit true,

When call'd t' address myself to you.

Mysterious are His ways, whose power,

Brings forth that unexpected hour,
When minds, that never met before,

Shall meet, unite, and part no more:
It is th' allotment of the skies,
The hand of the Supremely Wise,
That guides and governs our affections,
And plans and orders our connexions:
Directs us in our distant road,

And marks the bounds of our abode.
Thus we were settled when you found us,
Peasants and children all around us,
Not dreaming of so near a friend,
Deep in the abyss of Silver End.
Thus Martha, ev'n against her will,
Perch'd on the top of yonder hill;
And you, tho' you must needs prefer
The fairer scenes of sweet Sancerre,
Are come from distant Loire to choose
A cottage on the banks of Ouse.
This page of Providence quite new,
And now just op'ning to our view,
Employs our present thoughts and pains
To guess, and spell, what it contains:
But day by day, and year by year,
Will make the dark enigma clear;
And furnish us, perhaps, at last,
Like other scenes already past,
With proof that we, and our affairs,
Are part of a Jehovah's cares :
For God unfolds, hy slow degrees,
The purport of His deep decrees;
Sheds every hour a clearer light
In aid of our defective sight;
And spreads, at length, before the soul
A beautiful and perfect whole,
Which busy man's inventive brain
Toils to anticipate, in vain.

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