Then over all that he might be His ang red conk, weil brush i and next. Now see him mounted once again Cor his aimcie steed. Full slowly pacing o'er the stores. But finding seen a smoother road So, fair and softly, John he cried, So stooping down, as needs he must He grasp'd the mane with both his hands, His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before, Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Then might all people well discern The dogs did bark, the children scream'd, Up flew the windows all; And every soul cried out, Well done! Away went Gilpin-who but he? He carries weight! he rides a race! VOL. VII. Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind A youngster at school, more sedate than the rest, His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob, He was shock'd, sir, like you, and answer'd, "Oh no! What! rob our good neighbour! I pray you don't go; Besides, the man's poor, his orchard's his bread, Then think of his children, for they must be fed.' "You speak very fine, and you look very grave, But apples we want, and apples we'll have ; If you will go with us, you shall have a share, If not, you shall have neither apple nor pear." They spoke, and Tom ponder'd-"I see they will go; Poor man! what a pity to injure him so! Poor man! I would save him his fruit if I could, But staying behind will do him no good. [tree; "If the matter depended alone upon me, His scruples thus silenced, Tom felt more at ease, And went with his comrades the apples to 'seize; He blamed and protested, but join'd in the plan He shared in the plunder, but pitied the man. : THE MORNING DREAM. 'Twas in the glad season of spring, Far hence to the westward I sail'd, In the steerage a woman I saw, Such at least was the form that she wore, Shed light, like a sun on the waves, Then, raising her voice to a strain The sweetest that ear ever heard, Some clouds, which had over us hung, Thus swiftly dividing the flood, To a slave-cultured island we came, But soon as, approaching the land, And, the moment the monster expired, Awaking, how could I but muse At what such a dream should betide? But soon my ear caught the glad news, Which served my weak thought for a guide; That Britannia, renown'd o'er the waves For the hatred she ever has shown To the black-sceptred rulers of slaves, Resolves to have none of her own. |