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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,
And made him faster run.
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went postboy at his heels,
The lumb'ring of the wheels.
Six gentlemen upon the road,
Thus seeing Gilpin fly.
They rais'd the hue and cry :
Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman!"
Not one of them was mute;
Did join in the pursuit.
Dreading a negative, and overawid
Nay. Stay at home—you 're always going out**
Yea marry shalt thou, and with all my heart-
I knew the man, and knew his nature mild,
But not to moralize too much, and strain,
But half a coat, and show his bosom bare.
O happy Britain! we have not to sear
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;
He did again get down.
Now let us sing, Long live the King,
And Gilpin long live he ;
May I be there to see!
JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.
Survivor sole, and hardly such, of all
That once liv'd here, thy brethren, at my birth, DEAR JOSEPII-five-and-twenty years ago (Since which I number ihreescore winters past.) Alas, how time escapes ! 'tis even som
A shatter'd vet'ran, hollow-trunk'd perhaps,
With truth from Heaven, created thing adore,
When our forefather Druids in their oaks
Whence comes it then, that in the wane of life, of thickest shades, like Adam after taste
Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, The auburn out that held thee, swallowing down Swinging the parlor-door upon its hinge,
Thy yet close-folded latitude of boughs
And all thine embryo vastness at a gulp.
Delight in agitation, yet sustain
Of their best tone their dissolution owe.
Thoughi cannot spend itself, comparing still 'Thy rudiments should sleep the winter through. The great and little of thy lot, thy growth
From almost nullity into a state So Fancy dreams. Disprove it, if ye can, of matchless grandeur, and declension thence, Ye reas'ners broad awake, whose busy search Slow, into such magnificent decay. of argument, employ'd too oft amiss,
Time was, when, settling on thy leaf, a fly Sifts half the pleasures of short life away! Could shake thee to the root-and time has been
When tempests could not. At thy firmest age Thou fell'st mature; and in the loamy clod 'Thou hadst within thy bole solid contents, Swelling with vegetative force instinct
That might have ribb'd the sides and plank'd the deck Didst burst thine egg, as theirs the fabled Twins, or some flagg'd admiral ; and tortuous arms, Now stars; two lobes, protruding, pair'd exact ; The shipwright's darling treasure, didst present A leaf succeeded, and another leaf,
To the four-quarter'd winds, robust and bold, And, all the elements thy puny growth
Warp'd into tough knee-timber,* many a load ! Fost'ring propitious, thou becam'st a twig.
But the ax spar'd thee. In those thrifiier days,
Oaks fell noi, hewn by thousands, to supply Who liv'd, when thou wast such? O couldst thou The bottomless demands of contest, wag'd speak,
For senatorial honors. Thus to Time As in Dodona once thy kindred trees
The task was left to whittle thee away Oracular, I would not curious ask
With his sly scythe, whose ever-nibbling edge, The future, best unknown, but at thy mouth Noiseless, an atom, and an atom more, Inquisitive, the less ambiguous past.
Disjoining from the rest, has, unobsery'd,
Achiev'd a labor, which had far and wide, By thee I might correct, erroneous oft,
By man perform d, made all the forest ring. 'The clock of history, facts and events Timing more punctual, unrecorded facts
Embowel'd now, and of thy ancient self Recov'ring, and misstated setting right
Possessing nought, but the scoop'd rind, that seems Desp’rate attempt, till trees shall speak again! An huge throai, calling to the clouds for drink,
Which it would give in rivulets to thy root, Time made thee what thou wast, king of the Thou lemptest none, but rather much forbidd'st wood;
The seller's toil, which thou couldst ill requite. And Time hath made thee what thou art-a cave Yet is thy root sincere, sound as the rock, For owls to roost in. Once thy spreading boughs A quarry of stout spurs, and knotted fangs, O'erhung the champaign ; and the num'rous flocks, Which, crook'd into a thousand whimsies, clasp That graz'd it, stood beneath that ample cope The stubborn soil, and hold thee still erect. Uncrowded, yet safe-shelter'd from the storm. No flock frequents thee ow. Thou hast outliv'd So stands a kingdom, whose foundation yet Thy popularity, and art become
Fails not, in virtue and in wisdom laid, (Unless verse rescue thee awhile) a thing
Though all the superstructure, by the tooth Forgotten, as the foliage of thy youth.
Pulveriz'd of venality, a shell
Stands now, and semblance only of itself!
Thine arms have left thee. Winds have rent Then livig; then sapling; and, as cent'ry roll'd
them off Slow after century, a giant-bulk
Long since, and rovers of the forest wild, Of girih enormous, with moss-cushion'd root With bow and shaft, have burnt them. Some have left Upheav'd above the soil, and sides emboss'd A splinter'd stump, bleach'd to a snowy white; With prominent wens globose-uill at the last And some, memorial none, where once they grew. The rottenness, which time is charged to inflict Yet life still lingers in thee, and puts forth On other mighty ones, found also thee.
Proof not contemptible of what she can,
Even where death predominates. The spring What exhibitions various hath the world
Finds thee not less alive to her sweet force, Witness'd of mutability, in all
Than yonder upstarts of the neighb'ring wood, That we account most durable below!
So much thy juniors, who their birth receivid
Half a millennium since the date of thine.
me Knee-timber is found in the crooked arms of oak, In all that live, plant, animal, and man,
which, by reason of their distortion, are easily adjusted And in conclusion mar them. Nature's threads,
to the angle forned where the deck and the ship's sides Fine passing thought, e'en in her coarsest works,
They left their outcast mate behind, And scudded still before the wind.
Some succor yet they could afford;
And, such as storms allow,
Delay'd not to bestow.
On thy distorted root, with hearers none,
One man alone, the father of us all,
Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he
Their haste himself condemn, Aware that flight, in such a sea,
Alone could rescue them; Yet bitter felt it still to die Deserted, and his friends so nigh.
He long survives, who lives an hour
In ocean, self-upheld: And so long he, with unspent pow'r,
His destiny repellid : And ever as the minutes flew, Entreated help, or cried—“Adieu!"
At length, his transient respite past,
His comrades, who before
Could catch the sound no more. For then, by toil subdued, he drank The stilling wave, and then he sank.
No poet wept him; but the page
of narrative sincere, That tells his name, his worth, his age,
Is wet with Anson's tear.
OBSCUREST night involv'd the sky;
Th' Atlantic billows roar'd,
Wash'd headlong from on board,
Than he, with whom he went,
With warmer wishes sent. He lov'd them both, but both in vain, Nor him beheld, nor her again. Not long beneath the whelming brine,
Expert to swim, he lay: Nor soon he felt his strength decline,
Or courage die away ; But wag'd with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life. He shouted; nor his friends had failed
To check the vessel's course, But so the furious blast prevailid,
That, pitiless, perforce,
I therefore purpose not, or dream,
Descanting on his fate,
A more enduring date.
No voice divine the storm allay'd,
No light propitious shone ; When, snatch'd from all effectual aid,
We perish'd, each alone : But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he.
JAMES BEATTIE, an admired poet and a moralist, priety applied to such a person as he represents, and was born about 1735, in the county of Kincardine, the “Gothic days” in which he is placed are not hisin Scotland. His father was a small farmer, who, torically to be recognized, yet there is great beauty, though living in indigence, had imbibed so much of both moral and descriptive, in the delineation, and the spirit of his country, that he procured for his son perhaps no writer has managed the Spenserian stanza a literary education, first at a parochial school, and with more dexterity and harmony. The second part then at the college of New Aberdeen, in which he of this poem, which contains the maturer part of the entered as a bursar or exhibitioner. In the intervals education of the young baru, did not appear till 1774, of the sessions, James is supposed to have added to and then left the work a fragment. But whatever his scanty pittance by teaching at a country-school. may be the defects of the Minstrel, it possesses beauReturning to Aberdeen, he obtained the situation of ties which will secure it a place among the approved assistant to the master of the principal grammar- productions of the British muse. school, whose daughter he married. From youth he Beattie visited London for the first time in 1771, had cultivated a talent for poetry; and in 1760 he where he was received with much cordiality by the ventured to submit the fruit of his studies in this admirers of his writings, who found equal cause to walk to the public, by a volume of Original Poems love and esteem the author. Not long afterwards, and Translations." They were followed, in 1765, by the degree of LL. D. was conferred on him by his “ 'The Judgment of Paris ;” and these performances, college at Aberdeen. In 1777 a new edition, by subwhich displayed a familiarity with poetic diction, and scription, was published of his " Essay on Truth,” harmony of versification, seem to have made him to which were added three Essays on subjects of favorably known in his neighborhood.
polite literature. In 1783 he published “ DisserThe interest of the Earl of Errol acquired for him tations Moral and Critical,” consisting of detached the post of professor of moral philosophy and logic essays, which had formed part of a course of lecin the Marischal College of Aberdeen; in which tures delivered by the author as professor. His last capacity he published a work, entitled “ An Essay on work was “ Evidences of the Christian Religion, the Nature and Immutability of Truth, in opposition briefly and plainly stated,” 2 vols. 1786. His time to Sophistry and Scepticism," 1770. Being written was now much occupied with the duties of his in a popular manner, it was much read, and gained station, and particularly with the education of his the author many admirers, especially among the most eldest son, a youth of uncommon promise. His distinguished members of the Church of England ; death, of a decline, was a very severe trial of the and, at the suggestion of Lord Mansfield, he was father's fortitude and resignation; and it was folrewarded with a pension of 2001. from the King's lowed some years after by that of his younger son. privy-purse.
These afflictions, with other domestic misfortunes, In 1771 his fame was largely extended by the entirely broke his spirits, and brought him to his first part of his “ Minstrel," a piece the subject of grave at Aberdeen, in August, 1803, in the 68th which is the imagined birth and education of a poet. year of his age. Although the word Minstrel is not with much pro
While from his bending shoulder, decent hung
Fret not thyself, thou glimering child of pride,
With thee let Pageanıry and Power abide :
Where through wild groves at eve the lonely swain The design wns, to trace the progress of a poetical Enraptur'd roams, to gaze on Nature's charms.
genius, born in a rude age, froin the first dawning They hate the sensual, and scorn the vain,
Rise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn,
of his verse, and in the harmony, simplicity, and Or seek at noon the woodland scene remote,
they will. poetry. To those who may be disposed to ask, what could Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand;
induce me to write in so difficult a measure, I can Nor was perfection made for man below.
Nor blame the partial Fates, if they refuse
Know thine own worth, and reverence the lyre.
Wilt thou debase the heart which God refind?
No; let thy heaven-taught soul to Heaven aspire, Ah! who can tell how hard it is to climb
To fancy, freedom, harmony, resign'd; The steep where Fame's proud temple shines asar; Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind. Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star,
Canst thou forego the pure ethereal soul And waged with Fortune an eternal war;
In each fine sense so exquisitely keen, Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, On the dull couch of Luxury to loll, And Poverty's unconquerable bar,
Stung with disease, and stupefied with spleen, In life's low vale remote has pined alone,
Fain to implore the aid of Flattery's screen, Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown! Even from thyself thy lothesome heart to hide,
(The mansion then no more of joy serene,) And yet the languor of inglorious days,
Where sear, distrust, malevolence, abide,
And impotent desire, and disappointed pride?
O how canst thou renounce the boundless store There are, who, deaf to mad Ambition's call, of charms which Nature to her votary yields ! Would shrink to hear th' obstreperous trump of The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, Fame;
The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; Supremely blest, if to their portion fall
All that the genial ray of morning gilds, Health, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim And all that echoes to the song of even, Had he, whose simple tale these artless lines pro- All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, claim.
And all the dread magnificence of Heaven.
O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven The rolls of fame I will not now explore ; Nor need I here describe in learned lay,
These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, How forth the Minstrel far'd in days of yore,
And love, and ntleness, and joy, impart. Right glad of heart, though homely in array ; But these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth His waving locks and beard a!l hoary grey: E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart :