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 Or a wild goose at play. At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wondering much "Stop, stop, John Gilpin!-Here's the house," They all aloud did cry; The dinner waits, and we are tired:" Said Gilpin "So am I." But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there; For why?-His owner had a house So like an arrow swift he flew, Away went Gilpin out of breath, Till at his friend's the Calender's The Calender, amazed to see His neighbor in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him: "What news? what news? your tidings tell, Tell me you must and shall; Say why bare-headed you are come, Or why you come at all?" Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit "I came because your horse would come; And, if I well forbode, My hat and wig will soon be here They are upon the road." The Calender, right glad to find But let me scrape the dirt away Said John-" It is my wedding-day, So, turning to his horse, he said, "Twas for your pleasure you came here, Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast! Whereat his horse did snort, as he And gallop'd off with all his might, Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig: Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw Into the country far away, She pull'd out half a crown; And thus unto the youth she said "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, But not performing what he meant, Away went Gilpin, and away Went post-boy at his heels, The post-boy's horse right glad to miss Six gentlemen upon the road With post-boy scampering in the rear, "Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman!" And now the turnpike-gates again And so he did; and won it too; Nor stopp'd till where he had got up Now let us sing, Long live the king, And when he next doth ride abroad, JOHN BUNYAN. O thou, whom, borne on fancy's eager wing Back to the season of life's happy spring, I pleased remember, and, while memory yet Holds fast her office here, can ne'er forget; Ingenious dreamer, in whose well-told tale Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail; Whose humorous vein, strong sense, and simple style, May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile; Witty, and well employ'd, and, like thy Lord, Speaking in parables his slighted word,— I name thee not, lest so despised a name Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame: Yet even in transitory life's late day, That mingles all my brown with sober gray, Revere the man, whose Pilgrim marks the road, And guides the Progress of the soul to God. "Twere well with most, if books, that could engage Their childhood, pleased them at a riper age; The man, approving what had charm'd the boy, Would die at last in comfort, peace, and joy; And not with curses on his art, who stole The gem of truth from his unguarded soul. Tirocinium. SONNET TO WILLIAM WILBERFORCE.1 Thou hast achieved a part; hast gain'd the ear Hope smiles, joy springs, and though cold caution pause ON THE RECEIPT OF HIS MOTHER'S PICTURE O that those lips had language! Life has pass'd O welcome guest, though unexpected here! But gladly, as the precept were her own: 1 "The eloquence of Wilberforce was the voice of humanity. It was at the table of Bennet Langton, that he made the public avowal of his sentiments upon slavery. There was something sublime in the spectacle of so young a man preaching a new crusade. He declared himself the advocate of a forsaken race; and with almost unaided arm prepared to open the gates of mercy to mankind. Mackintosh said that he had conferred upon the world a benefit never exceeded by human benevolence. He was neither daunted by opposition nor depressed by defeat. However exhausted by the struggle, if he touched, in imagination at least, the ground where the ashes of the persecuted African reposed, his strength returned to him. The cry of blood ascended from the earth. Let his toil be appreciated, and his difficulties acknowledged. What others have dared in the war of arms, he dared in the war of opinion. He attacked the bulwarks with which avarice had fortified the cruelties of slavery; and never yielded to the invitations of ease, until he had driven a gap into those barricades of iniquity. His mind seemed to dilate with the majesty of his subject. His speech in 1789 gained the applause of all who heard it; and one passage, that in which he summoned death, as his last witness, whose tremendous testimony was neither to be purchased nor refuted, reached the sublime. Burke admired it; Pitt and Fox eulogized it; and Bishop Porteus mentioned it to the poet Mason, in terms of still warmer praise. In him was beheld, for the first, if not for the last time, the noble spectacle of a man without patronage or office, to whom parliament listened with respect, and the country with reverence; having no friends but the good; no side but virtue." -- Willmott. |