THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN. BY WILLIAM COWPER. [WILLIAM COWPER, English poet, was born at Great Berkhampstead, Hertfordshire, November 15, 1731. He was educated at Westminster School, where he remained from his tenth to his eighteenth year, and was called to the bar, but never practiced. He early showed symptoms of melancholia, and in 1763 had an attack of suicidal mania, which necessitated a temporary confinement in a private asylum at St. Albans. On his release he resided with the Unwins at Huntingdon, and the Rev. John Newton at Olney, and was tenderly cared for by Lady Austen and Lady Hesketh. Towards the close of his life his mental infirmities overcame him completely, and he died at East Dereham, Norfolk, April 25, 1800. His first volume of poems (1782) contained: "The Progress of Error," Truth," "Table Talk," etc. "The Task," with "Tirocinium" and the famous "John Gilpin," appeared in 1785. He also published translations of Madame Guyon's poems, of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, and of Milton's Latin and Italian poems.] 99.66 Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, Were never folk so glad, The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside were mad. John Gilpin at his horse's side Seized fast the flowing mane, And up he got, in haste to ride, But soon came down again; For saddletree scarce reached had he, When turning round his head he saw So down he came; for loss of time, 'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came downstairs, "The wine is left behind!" "Good lack!" quoth he, "yet bring it me My leathern belt likewise, In which I bear my trusty sword Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) Each bottle had a curling ear, Through which the belt he drew, Then over all, that he might be His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, Now see him mounted once again Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, But finding soon a smoother road So "Fair and softly," John he cried, So stooping down, as needs he must Who cannot sit upright, He grasped the mane with both his hands And eke with all his might. His horse, who never in that sort Away went Gilpin, neck or naught; He little dreamt, when he set out, The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Then might all people well discern The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all; And every soul cried out, "Well done!" As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin who but he? "He carries weight!" "He rides a race!" ""Tis for a thousand pound!" And still as fast as he drew near, And now, as he went bowing down Down ran the wine into the road, Most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been. |