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Down ran the wine into the road,
Most piteous to be seen,
Which made his horse's flanks to
smoke

As they had basted been.

But still he seemed to carry weight,
With leathern girdle braced;
For all might see the bottle-necks
Still dangling at his waist.

Thus all through merry Islington
These gambols he did play,
Until he came unto the Wash
Of Edmonton so gay;

And there he threw the Wash about
On both sides of the way,
Just like unto a trundling mop,
Or a wild goose at play.

At Edmonton his loving wife
From the balcony spied

Her tender husband, wondering much
To see how he did ride.

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Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,
And loved a timely joke;
And thus unto the calender
In merry guise he spoke :

"I came because your horse would come, And, if I well forebode,

My hat and wig will soon be here,—
They are upon the road."

The calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin,

Returned him not a single word, 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,
Each comely in its kind.

He held them up, and in his turn
Thus showed 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;
'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 galloped 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 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
John coming back amain :
Whom in a trice he tried to stop,
By catching at his rein;

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POEMS

ADDED BY THE AUTHOR IN SUBSEQUENT EDITIONS OF HIS WORKS.

ON THE DEATH OF

MRS. THROCKMORTON'S BULLFINCH.

YE Nymphs, if e'er your eyes were red
With tears o'er hapless favourites shed,
Oh share Maria's grief!
Her favourite, even in his cage
(What will not hunger's cruel rage?)
Assassined by a thief.

Where Rhenus strays his vines among
The egg was laid from which he sprung;
And though by nature mute,
Or only with a whistle blessed,
Well-taught, he all the sounds expressed
Of flageolet or flute.

The honours of his ebon poll
Were brighter than the sleekest mole,
His bosom of the hue

With which Aurora decks the skies,
When piping winds shall soon arise
To sweep away the dew.

Above, below, in all the house,
Dire foe alike of bird and mouse,

No cat had leave to dwell;
And Bully's cage supported stood
On props of smoothest-shaven wood,
Large built and latticed well.

Well latticed, but the grate, alas!
Not rough with wire of steel or brass,
For Bully's plumage sake,
But smooth with wands from Ouse's side,
With which, when neatly peeled and
dried,

The swains their baskets make.

Night veiled the pole; all seemed secure; When, led by instinct sharp and sure, Subsistence to provide,

A beast forth sallied on the scout, Long backed, long tailed, with whiskered snout,

And badger-coloured hide.

He, entering at the study door,
Its ample area 'gan explore;

And something in the wind Conjectured, sniffing round and round, Better than all the books he found, Food chiefly for the mind.

Just then, by adverse fate impressed,
A dream disturbed poor Bully's rest;
In sleep he seemed to view
A rat fast clinging to the cage,
And screaming at the sad presage,
Awoke and found it true.

For, aided both by ear and scent,
Right to his mark the monster went,-
Ah, Muse! forbear to speak
Minute the horrors that ensued;
His teeth were strong, the cage was
wood,--

He left poor Bully's beak.

Oh, had he made that too his prey!
That beak, whence issued many a lay
Of such mellifluous tone,
Might have repaid him well, I wote,
For silencing so sweet a throat,

Fast stuck within his own.

Maria weeps, -the Muses mourn ;-
So, when by Bacchanalians torn,

On Thracian Hebrus' side
The tree-enchanter Orpheus fell,
His head alone remained to tell
The cruel death he died.

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