But yet his horse was not a whit For why?-his owner had a house So like an arrow swift he flew, Away went Gilpin, out of breath, The calender, amazed to see His neighbor 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-da Say why bareheaded you are come, Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit 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 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, He held them up, and in his turn "But let me scrape the dirt away Said John, "It is my wedding-day, Se 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! Whereat his horse did snort, as he And galloped off with all his might Away went Gilpin, and away Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country far away, She pulled 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 Whom in a trice he tried to stop, By catching at his rein; But not performing what he meant, And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels, The postboy's horse right glad to miss. The lumbering of the wheels. Six gentlemen upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy scampering in the rear, They raised the hue and cry: "Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman!" Not one of them was mute; Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; That Gilpin rode a race. And so he did, and won it too, Nor stopped till where he had got up Now let us sing, Long live the king! And when he next doth ride abroad May I be there to see! William Cowper [1731-1800] THE RAZOR-SELLER A FELLOW in a market-town, Most musical, cried "Razors!" up and down, As every man should buy, with cash and sense. A country bumpkin the great offer heard,- With cheerfulness the eighteen pence he paid, And proudly to himself in whispers said, "This rascal stole the razors, I suppose! "No matter if the fellow be a knave, Provided that the razors shave; It sartinly will be a monstrous prize." So home the clown, with his good fortune, went, And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes. Being well lathered from a dish or tub, "I wish my eighteen pence were in my purse." In vain, to chase his beard, and bring the graces, He cut, and dug, and winced, and stamped, and swore; Brought blood, and danced, blasphemed, and made wry faces, And cursed each razor's body o'er and o'er: His muzzle, formed of opposition stuff, So kept it,-laughing at the steel and suds. Hodge sought the fellow,-found him,--and begun: With razors just like oyster-knives. Sirrah! I tell you you're a knave, To cry up razors that can't shave!" "Friend," quoth the razor-man, "I'm not a knave; As for the razors you have bought, Upon my soul, I never thought That they would shave." "Not think they'd shave!" quoth Hodge, with wondering eyes, And voice not much unlike an Indian yell; "What were they made for, then, you dog?" he cries. "Made," quoth the fellow, with a smile,- "to sell." John Wolcot [1738-1819] THE THREE WARNINGS THE tree of deepest root is found That love of life increased with years |