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 stopped 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! HELPS TO STUDY. Biographical: William Cowper, 1731-1800, was a famous English poet. His poems range from religious to humorous subjects. Notes and Questions. What was the occasion of the ride? What tells you that the linen-draper lived over his shop? Which stanza is most amusing? Why did people think John Gilpin rode for a wager? Edmonton--a suburb of London. The Bell--the Inn. Words and Phrases for Discussion. "calender" "eke" "chaise and pair" "frugal" "gambols" "trainband" "repair" "he carries weight" "for that wine is dear" "turnpike" "basted" "bootless boast" "the postboy's horse right glad to miss the lumbering of the wheels" * * * * * HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX ROBERT BROWNING I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight dawned clear; At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime, So Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!" At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, And against him the cattle stood black every one, To stare through the mist at us galloping past, And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, With resolute shoulders, each butting away The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray: And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; And one eye's black intelligence,--ever that glance O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on.