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 post-boy at his heels,

The post-boy's horse right glad to miss
The lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With post-boy 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 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 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!

THE DISTRESSED TRAVELLERS;

OR,

LABOUR IN VAIN.

An excellent New Song, to a Tune never sung before.

1.

I SING of a journey to Clifton,

We would have perform'd if we could,
Without cart or barrow to lift on

Poor Mary and me through the mud;
Slee sla slud,

Stuck in the mud,

Oh it is pretty to wade through a flood!

2.

So away we went, slipping and sliding,
Hop, hop, a la mode de deux frogs.
'Tis near as good walking as riding,
When ladies are dress'd in their clogs.
Wheels, no doubt,

Go briskly about,

But they clatter and rattle, and make such a rout!

3.

SHE.

Well now I protest it is charming;
How finely the weather improves !
That cloud, though, is rather alarming;
How slowly and stately it moves!
HE.

Pshaw! never mind;

'Tis not in the wind;

We are travelling south, and shall leave it behind.

4. SHE.

I am glad we are come for an airing,
For folks may be pounded and penn'd,
Until they grow rusty, not caring

To stir half a mile to an end.

HE.

The longer we stay,

The longer we may;

It's a folly to think about weather or way.

5. SHE.

But now I begin to be frighted:

If I fall, what a way I should roll!
I am glad that the bridge was indicted.—
Stop! stop! I am sunk in a hole!

HE.

Nay, never care!

'Tis a common affair;

You'll not be the last that will set a foot there.

6.

SHE.

Let me breathe now a little, and ponder

On what it were better to do. That terrible lane, I see yonder,

I think we shall never get through!

HE.

So think I;

But, by the bye,

We never shall know, if we never should try.

7. SHE.

But should we get there, how shall we get home?
What a terrible deal of bad road we have past,
Slipping and sliding; and if we should come
To a difficult stile, I am ruined at last.
Oh this lane!

Now it is plain

That struggling and striving is labour in vain.

8.

HE.

Stick fast there, while I go and look.

SHE.

Don't go away, for fear I should fall!

HE.

I have examined it every nook,

And what you have here is a sample of all.

Come, wheel round;

The dirt we have found

Would be an estate at a farthing a pound.

9.

Now, Sister Anne, the guitar you must take;
Set it, and sing it, and make it a song.

I have varied the verse for variety sake,
And cut it off short, because it was long.
'Tis hobbling and lame,

Which critics won't blame,

For the sense and the sound, they say, should be the

same.

A TALE,

FOUNDED ON A FACT, WHICH HAPPENED IN JANUARY, 1779.

WHERE Humber pours his rich commercial stream,
There dwelt a wretch, who breathed but to blaspheme.
In subterraneous caves his life he led,

Black as the mine, in which he wrought for bread.
When on a day, emerging from the deep,

A sabbath-day, (such sabbaths thousands keep!)
The wages of his weekly toil he bore

To buy a cock-whose blood might win him more;
As if the noblest of the feather'd kind

Were but for battle and for death design'd;

As if the consecrated hours were meant
For sport, to minds on cruelty intent.
It chanced, (such chances Providence obey,)
He met a fellow-labourer on the way,