So, ftooping down, as needs he must
Who cannot fit upright,

He grafp'd the mane with both his hands,
And eke with all his might.

His horfe, who never in that fort
Had handled been before,
What thing upon his back had got
Did wonder more and more.

Away went Gilpin, neck or nought;
Away went hat and wig!-

He little dreamt, when he fet out,
Of running fuch a rig!

The wind did blow, the cloke did fly,

Like ftreamer long and gay, Till, loop and button failing both,

At laft it flew away.

Then might all people well difcern
The bottles he had flung;

A bottle fwinging at each fide,

As hath been faid or fung.

The dogs did bark, the children scream'd, Up flew the windows all;

And ev'ry foul cried out-Well done!

As loud as he could bawl.

Away went Gilpin-who but he?
His fame foon spread around-
He carries weight! he rides a race!
'Tis for a thousand pound!

And ftill, as fast as he drew near,
'Twas wonderful to view

How in a trice the turnpike-men
Their gates wide open threw.

And, now, as he went bowing down
His reeking head full low,
The bottles twain behind his back

Were fhatter'd at a blow.

Down ran the wine into the road,

Moft piteous to be seen,

Which made his horfe's flanks to smoke As they had bafted been.

But ftill he feem'd to carry weight,
With leathern girdle brac'd;
For all might fee the bottle-necks
Still dangling at his waist.

Thus all through merry Islington
Thefe gambols he did play,
And till he came unto the Wash
Of Edmonton fo gay,

And there he threw the wash about

On both fides of the way,

Just like unto a trundling mop,
Or a wild goofe at play.

At Edmonton his loving wife
From the balcony fpied

Her tender husband, wond'ring much

To fee how he did ride.

Stop, ftop, John Gilpin !-Here's the houfe

They all at once did cry;

The dinner waits, and we are tir'd:

Said Gilpin-So am I!

But

yet his horfe was not a whit
Inclin'd to tarry there;

For why?-his owner had a house
Full ten miles off, at Ware.

So like an arrow fwift he flew,
Shot by an archer strong;

So did he fly-which brings me to
The middle of my song.

Away went Gilpin, out of breath,
And fore against his will,
Till at his friend the calender's
His horfe at last stood still,

The calender, amaz'd to see

His neighbour in fuch trim,

Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
And thus accofted him:-

What news? what news? your tidings tell ;

ay why bare-headed you are come,

Or why you come at all.

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,
And lov'd a timely joke!
And thus unto the calender

In merry guife he fpoke:

I came because your horse would come;
And, if I well forebode,

My hat and wig will foon be here-
They are upon the road.

The calender, right glad to find
His friend in merry pin,

Return'd him not a single word,
But to the house went in ;

Whence ftraight he came with hat and wig;
A wig that flow'd behind,

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

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