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

Jobn 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 frighten’d more,

And made him faster run.

Away went Gilpin, and away

Went postboy at his heels,
The postboy's horse right glad to miss

The lumb'ring of the wheels.

Six gentlemen, upon the road,

Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
With postboy scamp’ring in the rear,

They rais'd the hue and cry:

“Stop thiefl 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 tirst 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!

AN

EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ.

DEAR JOSEPH-five-and-twenty years ago
Alas, how time escapes !—'t is even som
With frequent intercourse, and always sweet,
And always friendly, we were wont to cheat
A tedious hour and now we never meet!
As some grave gentleman in Terence says,
('T was therefore much the same in ancient days)
Good Jack! we know not what to-morrow brings-
Strange fluctuation of all human things!
True ; changes will befal, and friends may part,
But distance only cannot change the heart :
And, were I call'd to prove th' assertion true,
One proof should serve a reference to you.

Whence comes it, then, that, in the wane of life,
Though nothing have occurr'd to kindle strife,
We find the friends we fancied we had won,
Though num'rous once, reduc'd to few or none?
Can gold grow worthless that has stood the touch ?
No; gold they seem'd, but they were never such.

Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe,
Swinging the parlour door upon it's hinge,
Dreading a negative, and overaw'd
Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go abroad.
Go, fellow !-whither po— turning short about-

Stay at home-you 're always going out.” “ 'T is but a step, sir, just at the street's end." "For what?”_" An' please you, sir, to see a friend." “ A friend !" Horatio cried, and seem'd to start" Yea marry shalt thon, and with all my heart.-

304 AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. And fetch my cloak ; for, though the night be raw, I'll see him too-the first I ever saw."

I knew the man, and knew his nature mild,
And was his plaything often when a child ;
But somewhat at that moment pinch'd him close,
Else he was seldom bitter or morose.
Perhaps, bis confidence just then betray'd,
His grief might prompt him with the speech he made ;
Perhaps 't was mere good-humour gave it birth,
The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth.
Howe'er it was, his language, in my mind,
Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind.

But, not to moralize too much, and strain
To prove an evil of which all complain,
(I hate long arguments verbosely spun)
One story more, dear Hill, and I have done.
Once on a time an emp'ror, a wise man,
No matter where, in China or Japan,
Decreed, that whosoever should offend
Against the well-known duties of a friend,
Convicted once, should ever after wear
But half a coat, and show his bosom bare.
The punishment importing this, no doubt,
That all was naught within, and all found out.

O happy Britain! we have not to fear
Such hard and arbitrary measure here;
Else, could a law, like that which I relate,
Once have the sanction of our triple state,
Some few, that I have known in days of old,
Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold;
While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow,
Might traverse England safely to and fro,
An honest man, close-button'd to the chin,
Broad cloth without, and a warm heart within.

YARDLEY OAK.

SURVIVOR sole, and hardly such, of all
That once liv'd here, thy brethren, at my birth
(Since which I number threescore winters past)
A shatter'd vetran, hollow-trunk'd, perhaps,
As now, and with excoriate forks deform,
Relics of ages! Could a mind, imbued
With truth from Heav's, created thing adore,
I might with rev'rence kneel, and worship thee.

It seems idolatry with some excuse,
When our forefather Druids in their oaks
Imagined sanctity. The conscience, yet
Unpurified by an authentic act
Of amnesty-the meed of blood divine,
Lov'd not the light, but, gloomy, into gloom
Of thickest shades, like Adam, after taste
Of fruit proscrib'd, as to a refuge, fled.

Thou wast a bauble once, a cup and ball, Which babes might play with ; and the thievish jay, Seeking her food, with ease might have purloin'd The auburn nut that held thee, swallowing down Thy yet close-folded latitude of bough3 And all thine embryo vastness at a gulp. But Fate thy growth decreed ; autumnal rains Beneath thy parent-tree mellow'd the soil

U