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Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, Children not thine have trod my nursory floor; And where the gard'ner Robin, day by day, Drew me to school along the public way, Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapt In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capt, 'Tis now become a history little known, That once we call’d the past'ral houfe our own. Short liv'd possession ! but the record fair, That mem'ry keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm that has effac'd A thousand other themes less deeply trac'd. Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, That thou might'st know me safe and warmly laid; Thy morning bounties ere I left my home, The biscuit or confectionary plum; The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestow'd, By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowd: All this, and, more endearing still than all, Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall, Ne'er roughen’d by those cataracts and breaks That humour interpos'd too often makes; All this still legible in mem’ry's page, And still to be so, to my latest age, Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay Such honours to thee as my numbers may;
Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere,
Could time, his fight revers’d, restore the hours
Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast (The storms all weather'd and the ocean cross’d) Shoots into port at some well-haven'd ise, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There fits quiescent on the floods that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incenfe play Around her, fanning light her itreamers gay ; So thou, with fails how swift! haft reach'd the shore « Where tempests never beat nor billows roar*,".
And thy loved consort on the dang'rous tide
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 chaife and pair.
My sister, and my sister's child,
Myself, and children three,
On horseback after we.
He soon replied—I do admire
Of womankind but one,
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 said;
And, for that wine is dear,
Which is both bright and clear.