At Edmonton, his loving wife

From the balcony spied

Her tender husband, wondering much

To see how he did ride.

'Stop, stop, John Gilpin!-Here's the house!' 145 They all at once did cry;

'The dinner waits, and we are tired:'

Said Gilpin 'So am I!'

'What news? what news? your tidings tell;

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Tell me you must and shall

Or why you come at all?'

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,

And loved a timely joke;

And thus unto the calender,
In merry guise, he spoke:

Say why bareheaded you are come,

170

Whence straight he came with hat and wig;

A wig that flowed behind,

A hat not much the worse for wear,
Each comely in its kind.

He held them up, and in his turn,
Thus showed his ready wit;-
'My head is twice as big as yours,
They therefore needs must fit.

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185

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 sing most loud and clear;

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'This shall be yours, when you bring back My husband safe and well.'

220

The youth did ride, and soon did meet

John coming back amain;

'Stop thief! stop thief!—a highwayman!' Not one of them was mute;

HERE lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow,
Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo;

Old Tiny, surliest of his kind,
Who, nursed with tender care,
And to domestic bounds confined,
Was still a wild Jack hare.

Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance every night,
He did it with a jealous look,
And, when he could, would bite.

5

10

His diet was of wheaten bread,
And milk, and oats, and straw;
Thistles, or lettuces instead,
With sand to scour his maw.

On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
On pippins' russet peel,

And when his juicy salads failed,
Sliced carrot pleased him well.

A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
Whereon he loved to bound,
To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his rump around.

His frisking was at evening hours,
For then he lost his fear,

But most before approaching showers,
Or when a storm drew near.

Eight years and five round-rolling moons
He thus saw steal away,

Dozing out all his idle noons,

And every night at play.

I kept him for his humour's sake,

For he would oft beguile

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20

25

30

My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
And force me to a smile.

35

But now, beneath this walnut shade,
He finds his long, last home,

And waits, in snug concealment laid,
Till gentler Puss shall come.

40

And partner once of Tiny's box,

He, still more aged, feels the shocks,
From which no care can save,

Must soon partake his grave.