Away went Gilpin, out of breath,
And sore against his will,
Till at his friend's the Callender's
The horse at last stood still.

The Callender amazed to see
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 shallSay 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 Callender
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 Callender, right glad to find
His friend in merry pin,
Return'd him not a single word,
But to the house went in.

Whence straight he came with hat and wig,
A wig that flow'd behind,

A hat not much the worse for wear,
Each comely in its kind.

He held them up, and in his turn
Thus show'd his ready wit,

"My head is twice as big as yours,
They therefore needs must fit.

But let me scrape the dirt away
That hangs upon your face;
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,

'T was 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

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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 lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With post-boy scampering in the rear,
They raised a 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!

COWPER.

THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.

It was a summer evening,

Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun,

And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild, Wilhelmine.

She saw her brother Peterkin

Roll something large and round, Which he beside the rivulet,

In playing there, had found:

He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth, and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,

Who stood expectant by;

And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh,

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"'T is some poor fellow's skull," said he, Who fell in the great victory.

"I find them in the garden,
For there's many hereabout;
And often, when I go to plough,
The ploughshare turns them out!
For many thousand men," said he,
"Were slain in that great victory."

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Now tell us what 't was all about,"
Young Peterkin, he cries;

And little Wilhemine looks up,
With wonder-waiting eyes;

C 2

"Now tell us all about the war,
And what they fought each other for."

"It was the English," Kaspar cried,
Who put the French to rout;

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But what they fought each other for,
I could not well make out;
But every body said," quoth he,
"That 't was a famous victory.

"My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream bard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;

So with his wife and child he fled,

Nor had he where to rest his head.

"With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide,

And many a childing mother then,

And new-born baby, died;

But things like that, you know, must be,

At every famous victory.

"They say it was a shocking sight,

After the field was won;

For many thousand bodies here

Lay rotting in the sun;

But things like that, you know, must be,

After a famous victory.

"Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,

66

And our good Prince Eugene."

Why, 't was a very wicked thing!"

Said little Wilhelmine;

"Nay, nay, my little girl," quoth he,

It was a famous victory.