Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, Swinging the parlour door upon its hinge, Dreading a negative, and overawed Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go abroad. Go, fellow !—whither ?—turning short aboutNay—stay at home—you're always going out. 'Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end. — For what?-An' please you, sir, to see a friend.A friend ! Horatio cried, and seem'd to startYea, marry shalt thou, and with all my heart. And fetch my cloak ; for though the night be raw, I'll see him too—the first I ever saw.

I knew the man, and knew his nature mild,
And was his plaything often when a child ;
But somewhat at that moment pinch'd him close,
Else he was seldom bitter or morose :
Perhaps, his confidence just then betray'd,
His grief might prompt him with the speech he may
Perhaps 'twas mere good humour gave it birth,
The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth.
Howe'er it was, his language, in my mind,
Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind.

But not to moralize too much, and strain
To prove an evil of which all complain,
(I hate long arguments, verbosely spun ;)
One story more, dear Hill, and I have done :
Once on a time, an emperor, a wise man,
No matter where, in China or Japan,
Decreed that whosoever should offend
Against the well-known duties of a friend,
Convicted once, should ever after wear
But half a coat, and show his bosom bare ;
The punishment importing this, no doubt,
That all was naught within, and all found out


O happy Britain! we have not to fear
Such hard and arbitrary measure here ;
Else, could a law like that which I relate
Once have the sanction of our triple state,
Some few, that I have known in days of old,
Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold ;
While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow,
Might traverse England safely to and fro,
An honest man, close-button'd to the chin,
Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within.



1 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.

2 A union form’d, as mine with thee,

Not rashly, or 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.

1 *Some few :' Thurlow and Colman, who, after the success of his second volume, however, renewed their acquaintance with him—an acquaintance which, by and by, shall be their only title to fame.

3 The bud inserted in the rind,

The bud of peach or rose,
Adorns, though differing in its kind,

The stock whereon it grows, ·
With flower as sweet, or fruit as fair,
As if produced by Nature there.

4 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.

5 The poet's lyre, to fix his fame,

Should be the poet's heart;
Affection lights a brighter flame

Than ever blazed by art.
No Muses on these lines attend,
I sink the poet in the friend.




1 JOHN GILPIN was a citizen

Of credit and renown,
A train-band captain eke was he

Of famous London town.

2 John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear,

Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet we

No holiday have seen.

3 To-morrow is our wedding-day,

And we will then repair
Unto the Bell at Edmonton,

All in a chaise and pair.

4 My sister, and my sister's child,

Myself and children three,
Will fill the chaise ; so you must ride

On horseback after we.

5 He soon replied, I do admire

Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,

Therefore it shall be done.

6 I am a linen-draper bold,

As all the world doth know,
And my good friend the Callender

Will lend his horse to go.

7 Quoth Mistress Gilpin, That's well said ;

And for that wine is dear,
We will be furnish'd with our own,

Which is both bright and clear.

8 John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife;

O’erjoy'd was he to find
That, though on pleasure she was bent,

She had a frugal mind.

9 The morning came, the chaise was brought,

But yet was not allow'd
To drive up to the door, lest all

Should say that she was proud.

10 So three doors off the chaise was stay'd,

Where they did all get in;
Six precious souls, and all agog

To dash through thick and thin.

11 Smack went the whip, round went the wheel

Were never folk so glad ;
The stones did rattle underneath,

As if Cheapside were mad.

12 John Gilpin at his horse's side

Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got, in haste to ride,

But soon came down again;

13 For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he,

His journey to begin,
When, turning round his head, he saw

Three customers come in.

14 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.

15 'Twas long before the customers

Were suited to their mind,
When Betty, screaming, came down stairs,

“ The wine is left behind !"

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