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. But not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more, And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels, The postboy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels. Six gentlemen upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy scampering in the rear, They raised the hue and cry: "Stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!" Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit. 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! ----W. Cowper. [Illustration: 0049] FAIR ELEANOR |The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower; The graves give up their dead: fair Eleanor Walked by the castle gate, and looked in; A hollow groan ran through the dreary vaults. She shrieked aloud, and sunk upon the steps, On the cold stone her pale cheek. Sickly smells Of death issue as from a sepulchre. And all is silent but the sighing vaults. Chill death withdraws his hand, and she revives; Amazed she finds herself upon her feet, And, like a ghost, through narrow passages Walking, feeling the cold walls with her hands. Fancy returns, and now she thinks of bones And grinning skulls, and corruptible death [Illustration: 0050] Wrapt in his shroud; and now fancies she hears Deep sighs, and sees pale sickly ghosts gliding. At length, no fancy but reality Distracts her. A rushing sound, and the feet Of one that fled, approaches.--Ellen stood, Like a dumb statue, froze to stone with fear. The wretch approaches, crying, "The deed is done!