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Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeezed

And bored with elbow-points through both his sides, Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage;

Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb,

And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath
Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage,
Or placemen, all tranquillity and smiles,
This folio of four pages, happy work!
Which not e'en critics criticise; that holds
Inquisitive attention, while I read,

Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair,
Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break;
What is it, but a map of busy life,

Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?
Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge,
That tempts Ambition. On the summit see
The seals of office glitter in his eyes;

He climbs, he pants, he grasps them! At his heels,
Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends,

And with a dexterous jerk soon twists him down,
And wins them, but to lose them in his turn.

Here rills of oily eloquence, in soft
Meanders, lubricate the course they take;
The modest speaker is ashamed and grieved
To engross a moment's notice; and yet begs,
Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts,
However trivial all that he conceives.
Sweet bashfulness! it claims at least this praise:
The dearth of information and good sense,
That it foretells us, always comes to pass.
Cataracts of declamation thunder here;
There forests of no meaning spread the page,
In which all comprehension wanders lost;
While fields of pleasantry amuse us there
With merry descants on a nation's woes,
The rest appears a wilderness of strange
But gay confusion; roses for the cheeks,
And lilies for the brows of faded age,

Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald,

Heaven, earth, and ocean, plundered of their sweets,

Nectareous essences, Olympian dews,

Sermons, and city feasts, and favorite airs,

Ethereal journeys, submarine exploits,

And Katterfelto, with his hair on end

At his own wonders, wondering for his bread.

'Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat,

To peep at such a world; to see the stir

Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd;
To hear the roar she sends through all her gates
At a safe distance, where the dying sound
Falls a soft murmur on th' uninjured ear.
Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease
The globe and its concerns, I seem advanced
To some secure and more than mortal height,
That liberates and exempts me from them all.

FROM THE "TIROCINIUM."

239. THE PLAY-PLACE OF EARLY DAYS.

Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,
We love the play-place of our early days;
The scene is touching, and the heart is stone,
That feels not at that sight, and feels at none.
The wall on which we tried our graving skill,
The very name we carved subsisting still;

The bench on which we sat while deep employed,
Though mangled, hacked, and hewed, not yet destroyed;
The little ones, unbuttoned, glowing hot,

Playing our games, and on the very spot;
As happy as we once, to kneel and draw
The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw;
To pitch the ball into the grounded hat,
Or drive it devious with a dexterous pat;
The pleasing spectacle at once excites
Such recollection of our own delights,
That, viewing it, we seem almost ť obtain
Our innocent sweet simple years again.

240. THE Diverting History of John Gilpin.

John Gilpin was a citizen

Of credit and renown,

A train-band Captain eke was he
Of famous London town.

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 chaise and pair.

My sister and my sister's child,
Myself, and children three,

Will fill the chaise; so you must ride
On horseback after we.

He soon replied - I do admire

Of womankind but one,

And you are she, my dearest dear,

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 Mistress Gilpin - That's well said;
And, for that wine is dear,

We will be furnished with our own,

Which is both bright and clear.

John Gilpin kissed his loving wife;

O'erjoyed was he to find

That, though on pleasure she was bent,

She had a frugal mind.

The morning came, the chaise was brought,

But yet was not allowed

To drive up to the door, lest all

Should say that she was proud.

So three doors off the chaise was stayed,
Where they did all get in;

Six precious souls, and all agog

To dash through thick and thin.

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 saddle-tree scarce reached had he,
His journey to begin,

When, turning round his head, he saw

Three customers come in.

So down he came; for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
Would trouble him much more.

'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind,

When Betty, screaming, came down stairs

"The wine is left behind!"

Good lack! quoth he - yet bring it me,

My leathern belt likewise,

In which I bear my trusty sword,

When I do exercise.

Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!)
Had two stone bottles found,
To hold the liquor that she loved,
And keep it safe and sound.

Each bottle had a curling ear,

Through which the belt he drew,
And hung a bottle on each side,
To make his balance true.

Then, over all, that he might be
Equipped from top to toe,

His long red cloak, well brushed and neat,
He manfully did throw.

Now see him mounted once again
Upon his nimble steed,

Full slowly pacing o'er the stones,
With caution and good heed.

But finding soon a smoother road
Beneath his well-shod feet,
The snorting beast began to trot,
Which galled him in his seat.

So, Fair and softly, John he cried,
But John he cried in vain;
That trot became a gallop soon,
In spite of curb and rein.

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.

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