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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.

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 gallop'd 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 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 bostboy at his heels,

The postboy's horse right glad to miss
The lumb'ring of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road,
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With postboy scamp'ring in the rear,
They rais'd the hue and cry:-

Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwaymar
Not one of them was mute;
And all and each that pass'd 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 did get 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 nes!

ON A SPANIEL, CALLED BEAU,

KILLING A YOUNG BIRD

[July 15, 1793.]

A SPANIEL, Beau, that fares like you,
Well fed, and at his ease,
Should wiser be than to pursue
Each trifle that he sees.

But you have kill'd a tiny bird,
Which flew not till to-day,
Against my orders, whom you heard
Forbidding you the prey.

Nor did you kill that you might eat,
And ease a doggish pain,

For him, though chas'd with furious heat
You left where he was slain.

Nor was he of the thievish sort,
Or one whom blood allures,
But innocent was all his sport
Whom you have torn for yours.

ON A SPANIEL, CALLED BEAU.

My dog! what remedy remains,
Since, teach you all I can,
I see you, after all my pains,
So much resemble Man?

BEAU'S REPLY.

SIR, when I flew to seize the bird
In spite of your command,
A louder voice than yours I heard,
And harder to withstand.

You cried-forbear-but in my breast
A mightier cried-proceed-
'Twas Nature, Sir, whose strong behes
Impell'd me to the deed.

Yet much as nature I respect,
I ventur'd once to break,
(As you, perhaps, may recollect)
Her precept for your sake;

And when your linnet on a day,
Passing his prison door,
Had flutter'd all his strength away,
And panting press'd the floor,

Well knowing him a sacred thing,
Not destin'd to my tooth,

I only kiss'd his ruffled wing,

And lick'd the feathers smooth.

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