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 Mrs. Gilpin, when she saw
Her husband posting down
Into the country far away,

She pull'd 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 rumbling of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With postboy scampering in the rear,

They rais'd a 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 stopp'd 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

LXXVI

THE MILKMAID

Once on a time a rustic dame,
(No matter for the lady's name)
Wrapt up in deep imagination,
Indulg'd her pleasing contemplation;
While on a bench she took her seat,
And plac'd the milk-pail at her feet.
Oft in her hand she chink'd the pence,
The profits which arose from thence;
While fond ideas fill'd her brain
Of layings up, and monstrous gain,

Till every penny which she told
Creative fancy turn'd to gold;

And reasoning thus from computation,
She spoke aloud her meditation.

'Please heaven but to preserve my health, No doubt I shall have store of wealth; It must of consequence ensue

I shall have store of lovers too.

O, how I'll break their stubborn hearts
With all the pride of female arts.

What suitors then will kneel before me!
Lords, Earls, and Viscounts shall adore me.
When in my gilded coach I ride,
My Lady, at his Lordship's side,
How will I laugh at all I meet
Clattering in pattens down the street!
And Lobbin then I'll mind no more,
Howe'er I lov'd him heretofore;
Or, if he talks of plighted truth,
I will not hear the simple youth,
But rise indignant from my seat,
And spurn the lubber from my feet.'

Action, alas! the speaker's grace,
Ne'er came in more improper place,
For in the tossing forth her shoe
What fancied bliss the maid q'erthrew!
While down at once, with hideous fall,
Came lovers, wealth, and milk, and all.

R. Lloyd

LXXVII

SIR SIDNEY SMITH

Gentlefolks, in my time, I've made many a rhyme, But the song I now trouble you with

Lays some claim to applause, and you'll grant it, because

The subject's Sir Sidney Smith, it is;

The subject's Sir Sidney Smith.

We all know Sir Sidney, a man of such kidney,
He'd fight every foe he could meet;

Give him one ship or two, and without more ado,
He'd engage if he met a whole fleet, he would;
He'd engage if he met a whole fleet.

Thus he took, every day, all that came in his way,
Till fortune, that changeable elf,

Order'd accidents so, that, while taking the foe,
Sir Sidney got taken himself, he did;

Sir Sidney got taken himself.

His captors, right glad of the prize they now had, Rejected each offer we bid,

And swore he should stay, lock'd up till doomsday, But he swore he'd be hang'd if he did, he did; But he swore he'd be hang'd if he did.

So Sir Sid got away, and his gaoler next day
Cried, 'Sacre, diable, morbleu!

Mon prisonnier 'scape, I 'ave got in von scrape,
And I fear I must run away, too, I must;
I fear I must run away too.'

T. Dibdin

LXXVIII

THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN

Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,

By famous Hanover city;

The river Weser deep and wide

Washes its walls on the southern side;

A pleasanter spot you never spied ;

But, when begins my ditty,

Almost five hundred years ago,

To see the townsfolk suffer so
From vermin, was a pity.

Rats!

They fought the dogs and killed the cats,

And bit the babies in their cradles,

And ate the cheeses out of the vats,

And licked the soup from the cook's own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats, By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats.

At last the people in a body

To the Town-hall came flocking:
"Tis clear,' cried they, 'our Mayor's a noddy:
And as for our Corporation-shocking
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine
For dolts that can't or won't determine
What's best to rid us of our vermin!
You hope, because you're old and obese,
To find in the furry civic robe ease!