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AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A
The needy seldom passed her door,
And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor
Who left a pledge behind. She strove the neighbourhood to please
With manners wondrous winning;
Unless when she was sinning.
With hoop of monstrous size,
But when she shut her eyes.
By twenty beaux and more;
When she has walked before.
GOOD people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song,
It cannot hold you long.
Of whom the world might say
Whene'er he went to pray.
A kind and gentle heart he had
To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he cladWhen he put on his clothes.
But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all ; The doctors found, when she was dead
Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament in sorrow sore,
For Kent Street well may say That had she lived a twelvemonth more
She had not died to-day.
And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.
But when a pique began,
Went mad, and bit the man.
The wond'ring neighbours ran,
To bite so good a man.
To every Christian eye;
They swore the man would die.
That showed the rogues they lied, -The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died !
For Pollio snatched away;
He had not died to-day.
In virtuous times of yore,
Whene'er he went before. How sad the groves and plains appear,
And sympathetic sheep : Ev'n pitying hills would drop a tear
If hills could learn to weep. His bounty in exalted strain
Each bard may well display, Since none implored relief in vain
That went relieved away.
His obsequies forbid :
As ever dead man did.
1731–1800. THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF
JOHN GILPIN. Showing how he went farther than he in
tended, and came safe home again. The story of John Gilpin's ride was related to Cowper by his friend, Lady Austen, who had heard it as a child. It caused the poet à sleepless night, we are told, as he was kept
So three doors off the chaise was stayed,
Where they did all get in;
To dash through thick and thin.
It has pre
Smack went the whip, round went the
wheels, Were never folks glad ! The stones did rattle underneath
As if Cheapside were mad.
awake by laughter at it. During these restless hours he turned it into the famous ballad. It appeared in the “Public Advertiser," November 14th, 1782, anonymously.
A celebrated actor named Henderson took it for one of his public recitations at Freemasons' Hall. It became immediately so popular that it was printed everywhere -- in newspapers, magazines, and separately. It was even sung as a common ballad in the streets. served its popularity to the present date.
The original John Gilpin was, it is said, a Mr. Beyer, a linendraper, who lived at the Cheapside corner of Paternoster Row. He died in 1791, at the age of nearly a hundred years. JOHN GILPIN was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
Of famous London town.
“Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen. " To-morrow is our wedding day,
And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton,
All in a chaise and pair.
John Gilpin at his horse's side
Seized fast the fiowing mane, And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again ;
For saddletree scarce reached had he,
His journey to begin, When, turning round his head, he saw
Three customers come in.
So down he came; for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
Would trouble him much more.
“My sister, and my sister's child,
Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride
On horseback after we."
'Twas long before the customers
Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came downstairs
“The wine is left behind !"
He soon replied, “I do admire
Of womankind but one, And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.
"Good lack !" quoth he; "yet bring it me,
My leathern belt likewise,
When I do exercise."
Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul !)
Had two stone bottles found, To hold the liquor that she loved,
And keep it safe and sound.
“I am a linendraper bold,
As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender
Will lend his horse to go."
And for that wine is dear,
Which is both bright and clear."
Each bottle had a curling ear,
Through which the belt he drew, And hung a bottle on each side,
To make his balance true.
Then over all, that he might be
Equipped from top to toe, His long red coat, well brushed and neat,
He manfully did throw.
John Gilpin kissed his loving wife;
O'erjoyed was he to find That, though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.
But yet was not allowed
Should say that she was proud.
Now see him mounted once again
Upon his nimble steed, Full slowly pacing o'er the stones,
With caution and good heco.
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.
But not performing what he meant,
And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more,
And made him faster run.
He held them up, and in his turn
Thus showed his ready wit:
" 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.'
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went postboy at his heels,
The lumbering of the wheels.
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
[man!" "Stop thief! stop thief !-a highway
Not one of them was mute;
Did join in the pursuit.
Flew open in short space;
That Gilpin rode a race.
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."
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.
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;
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!
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.
UNLESS a love of virtue light the flame, Satire is, more than those he brands, to
He hides behind a magisterial air
stirred, The milk of their good purpose all to curd. Their zeal begotten, as their works re
hearse, By lean despair upon an empty purse, The wild assassins start into the street, Prepared to poniard whomsoe'er they meet. No skill in swordmanship, however just, Can be secure against a madman's thrust; And even virtue, so unfairly matched, Although immortal, may be pricked or
scratched. When scandal has new minted an old lie, Or taxed invention for a fresh supply, 'Tis called a satire, and the world appears Gathering around it with erected ears: A thousand names are tossed into the crowd,
[aloud, Some whispered softly, and some twanged Just as the sapience of an author's brain Suggests it safe or dangerous to be plain. Strange! how the frequent interjected dash Quickens a market, and helps off the trash; The important letters that include the rest Serve as a key to those that are supprest; Conjecture gripes the victims in his paw, The world is charmed, and Scrib escapes
the law. So when the cold damp shades of night
prevail, Worms may be caught by either head or Forcibly drawn from many a close recess, They meet with little pity, no redress; Plunged in the stream, they lodge upon the
mud, Food for the famished rovers of the flood.
Perhaps, enchanted with the love of fame, He sought the jewel in his neighbour's
shame; Perhaps—whatever end he might pursue, The cause of virtue could not be his view. At every stroke wit flashes in our eyes ; The turns are quick, the polished points
surprise, But shine with cruel and tremendous charms,
(alarms. That, while they please, possess us with So have I seen (and hastened to the sight On all the wings of holiday delight), Where stands that monument of ancient
power, Named with emphatic dignity, the Tower, Guns, halberds, swords and pistols, great
and small, In starry forms disposed upon the wall: We wonder, as we gazing stand below, That brass and steel should make so fine a show;
(skill, But though we praise the exact designer's Account them implements of mischief still.
THE MODERN PATRIUT.
REBELLION is my theme all day;
I only wish 't would come (As who knows but perhaps it may?)
A little nearer home. Yon roaring boys, who rave and fight
On t' other side the Atlantic, I always held them in the right,
But most so when most frantic.
That man shall be my toast,
Who bravely breaks the most.
The choicest flowers she bears, Who constitutionally pulls
Your house about your ears. Such civil broils are my delight,
Though some folks can't endure them, Who say the mob are mad outright,
And that a rope must cure them. A rope! I wish we patriots had
Such strings for all who need 'emWhat? hang a man for going mad!
Then farewell British freedom.
All zeal for a reform that gives offence To peace and charity is mere pretence: A bold remark, but which, if well applied, Would humble many a towering poet's
pride. Perhaps the man was in a sportive fit, And had no other play-place for his wit;