And thy loved confort on the dang'rous tide
Of life, long fince, has anchor'd at thy fide.
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,
Always from port withheld, always distress'd-
Me howling winds drive devious, tempest toss'd,
Sails ript, seams op'ning wide, and compass loft,
And day by day some current's thwarting force
Sets me more distant from a profperous course.
But oh the thought, that thou art fafe, and he !
That thought is joy, arrive what may to me.
My boast is not that I deduce my birth
From loins enthron'd and rulers of the earth;
But higher far my proud pretenfions rife-
The fon of parents pafs'd into the skies.
And now, farewell-time, unrevok'd, has run
His wonted course, yet what I wish'd is done.
By contemplation's help, not fought in vain,
I seem t' have liv'd my childhood o'er again;
To have renew'd the joys that once were mine,
Without the fin of violating thine;
And, while the wings of fancy still are free,
And I can view this mimic shew of thee,
Time has but half fucceeded in his theft-
Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.
SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN.
JOHN GILPIN was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
A train-band captain eke was he
Of famous London town.
John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear-
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.
My sister, and my sister's child,
Myself, and children three,
Will fill the chaise; so you must ride
On horseback after we.
He foon replied-I do admire
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.
I am a linen-draper bold,
As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender Will lend his horse to go.
Quoth Mrs. Gilpin-That's well faid;
And, for that wine is dear,
We will be furnish'd with our own,
Which is both bright and clear.
But let me scrape the dirt away
That hangs upon your face;
And stop and eat, for well you may
Be in a hungry cafe.
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.
Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast!
For which he paid full dear;
For, while he spake, a braying ass
Did fing 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 your's 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 fafter run.
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