Now Gilpin had a pleafant wit,
And lov'd a timely joke,
And thus unto the callender
In merry ftrains he spoke.

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

My hat and wig will foon be here,
They are upon the road.'
"The callender right glad to find
His friend in merry pin,
Return'd him not a fingle word,
But to the house went in.
"Whence ftrait he came with hat and wig,
A wig that droop'd behind,

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

"He held them up, and in his turn
Thus fhow'd his ready wit-
My head is twice as big as yours,
They therefore needs must fit.
But let me fcrape the dirt away
That hangs about your face:
And stop and eat-for well you may
Be in a hungry cafe.'

Said John, It is my wedding-day,
And folks would gape and stare,
If wife fhould dine at Edmonton,
And I fhould dine at Ware.'
"Then, fpeaking to his horfe, he said,
I am in hafte to dine:

'Twas for your pleasure you came here,
You shall go back for mine.'

Ah! lucklefs word, and bootless boaft,
For which he paid full dear;
For while he spoke, a braying afs
Did fing moft loud and clear.

* Whereat his horfe did fnort, as if
He heard a lion roar,

And gallop'd off with all his might,
As he bad done before.

Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin's hat and wig;
He loft them fooner than at first:
For why? They were too big.

"Now Gilpin's wife, when fhe had feen
Her husband posting down
Into the country far away,

She pull'd out half a crown:
"And thus unto the youth fhe faid,
That drove them to the Bell,

This fhall be yours when you bring back
My husband fafe and well.'
"The youth did ride, and foon they met ;
He tried to ftop John's horfe,
By feizing faft the flowing rein,
But only made things worse:
"For not performing what he meant,
And gladly would have done,
He thereby frighted Gilpin's horse,
And made him fafter run.

"Away went Gilpin,-and away
Went poft-boy at his heels;
The poft-boy's horfe right glad to mifs

The lumber of the wheel's.

"Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus feeing Gilpin fly,

With poft-boy fcamp'ring in the rear,
They rais'd the hue-and-cry.

"Stop thief!-ftop thief!-a highwayman !"
Not one of them was mute;
So they, and all that pafs'd that way,
Soon join'd in the purfuit.

"But all the turnpike gates again
Flew open in fhort space,
The men ftill thinking as before.
That Gilpin rode a race.

"And fo he did, and won it too.
For he got first to town,
Nor stopp'd till where he first got up
He did again get down.

"Now let us fing-Long live the king,

And Gilpin long live he;

And when he next does ride abroad,
May I be there to fee !"

On the Marriage of the Honourable Mifs ELIZ. SACKVILLE COLO-
NEL HERBERT.-
By RICHARD CUMBERLAND, Efq.

YE

E folemn pedagogues, who teach
A language by eight parts of fpeech,
And with the arm of flesh drive down,
By force of birch, your noun pronoun;
Can any of you all impart

A rule to conjugate the heart;
To fhew its prefent, perfect, future;
Its active, paffive, and its neuter ?
Grammarians, did you ever try
To conftrue and expound the eye?
And, from the fyntax of the face,
Decline its gender and its cafe ?
What faid the nuptial tear that fell
From fair Eliza-can you teil ?
And yet it fpoke upon her cheek
As eloquent as tear could fpeak;
Not audibly, by word of mouth,
As Prifcian would, or Bishop Lowth;
Not fyllables by Dych e'er fpelt,
Not language heard, but language felt:
Here, at God's altar as I ftand,

To plight my faith and yield my hand,
With faltering tongue whilst I proclaim
The ceffion of my virgin name;
Whilft in my ears is read at large
The Rubric's ftern unfoften'd charge,
Spare me," the filent pleader cries,

O fpare me, ye furrounding eyes!
Surrounded by a blaze of light,
While here I pafs in folemn fight,
Or, kneeling by a father's fide,
Renounce the daughter for the bride.
Ye fifters, to my foul fo dear,
Say, can I check the rifing tear?
When at this awful hour I caft
My memory back on time that's past,
Ungrateful were I to forbear
This tribute to a father's care;
For all he fuffer'd, all he taught,
Is there not due fome tender thought?
And may not one fond prayer be given
To a dear faint who refts in heaven ?

And you, to whom I now betroth,
In fight of Heaven, my nuptial oath;
Who to nobility of birth

True honour join, and native worth,
If my recording bofom draws

One figh, mifconftrue not the cause ;
Trust me, though weeping, I rejoice,
And, blufhing, glory in my choice."

RACES. A Ballad. By the late Sir JOHN MOORE, Bari,

GEORGE, I've been, I'll tell you where,
But first prepare yourself for raptures;

To paint this charming, heavenly fair,

And paint her well, would ask whole chapters.
Fine creatures I've view'd many a one,
With lovely shapes and angel faces;
But I have feen them all outdone,
By this fweet maid, at

-Races.

Lords, commoners, alike the rules,
'Takes all who view her by furprise,
Makes e'en the wifeft look like fools,
Nay more, makes fox-hunters look wife.

Her fhape-'tis elegance and ease,
Unfpoil'd by art, or modern drefs,
But gently tapering by degrees,
And finely," beautifully lefs."

Her foot-it was fo wond'rous fmall,
So thin, fo round, fo flim, fo neat,
The buckle fairly hid it all,

And feem'd to fink it with the weight.

And just above the fpangled fhoe,
Where many an eye did often glance,
Sweetly retiring from the view,

And feen by flealth, and feen by chance;

Two flender ankles peeping out,

Stood like Love's heralds, to declare

That all within the petticoat

Was firm, and full,

and round, and fair."

And then the dances-better far

Than heart can think, or tongue can tell,

Not Heinel, Banti, or Guimar,

E'er mov'd fo graceful, and fo well.

* G. Ellis, Efq.

So

So eafy glide her beauteous limbs,

True as the echo to the sound,

She feems, as through the dance fhe skims,
To tread on air, and fcorn the ground.

And there is lightning in her eye,

One glance alone might well infpire The clay-cold breast of Apathy,

Or bid the frozen heart catch fire.

And Zephyr on her lovely lips

Has fpread his choiceft, fweeteft rofes; And there his heavenly nectar fips,

And there in breathing fweets repofes.

And there's fuch mufic when the fpeaks,
You may believe me, when I tell ye,
I'd rather hear her, than the fqueaks
Or far-fam'd fqualls of Gabrielli.

And fparkling wit, and fteady fenfe,
In that fair form with beauty vie;
But ting'd with virgin diffidence,

And the foft blush of modefty.

Had I the treafures of the world,
All the fun views, or the feas borrow
(Elfe may I to the devil be hurl'd)

I'd lay them at her feet to-morrow.

But as we bards reap only bays,

Nor much of that, though nought grows on it; I'll beat my brains to found her praise,

And hammer them into a fonnet.

And if he deign one charming fmile,
The bleft reward of all my labours;

I'll never grudge my pains, or toil,
But pity the dullfquires, my neighbours.

SON G.

OH! I'll reform; I will, I fwear!

To Hymen I'll addrefs my vows,

And I'll beget a fon and heir,

And tend my fheep, and milk my cows,
And dofe and fatten with my spouse!