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The youth did ride, and soon did meet
John 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 frighten'd 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 lumbering of the wheels.

Six gentlemen upon the road
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,

With postboy scampering in the rear,
They raised the hue and cry:

"Stop thief! 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 first to town;

Nor stopp'd, till where he had got up

He had again got 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!

ALEXANDER SELKIRK.

ALEXANDER SELKIRK.

W. COWPER.

I AM monarch of all I survey;

My right there is none to dispute; From the centre all round to the sea

I am lord of the fowl and the brute. O Solitude! where are the charms

That sages have seen in thy face? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Then reign in this horrible place.

I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech;
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

Society, Friendship, and Love,

Divinely bestow'd upon man,
Oh, had I the wings of a dove
How soon would I taste you again!
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth,
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.

Ye winds that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore

Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more :My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me?

Oh, tell me I yet have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to see!

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How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compared with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-wingèd arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land

In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection at hand

Soon hurries me back to despair.

But the seafowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,

And reconciles man to his lot.

CONTEST BETWEEN THE NOSE AND THE

EYES.

W. COWPER.

BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose,
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.
So the Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause
With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning;
While chief-baron Ear sat to balance the laws,

So famed for his talent in nicely decerning. “In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear, And your Lordship," he said, "will undoubtedly find That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear, Which amounts to possession time out of mind." Then holding the spectacles up to the Court"Your Lordship observes they are made with a straddle,

As wide as the ridge of the Nose is; in short,
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.

EXILE OF ERIN.

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Again, would your Lordship a moment suppose ('Tis a case that has happened, and may be again) That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,

Pray who would or who could, wear spectacles then?
On the whole it appears, and my argument shows,
With a reasoning the Court will never condemn,
That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose,
And the Nose was as plainly intended for them."
Then shifting his side, as a lawyer knows how,
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes;
But what were his arguments few people know,
For the Court did not think they were equally wise
So his Lordship decreed, with a grave; solemn tone,
Decisive and clear, without one if or but,

That, "Whenever the Nose put his spectacles on,
By day-light or candle-light-Eyes should be shut."

EXILE OF ERIN.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

THERE came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin,
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill:
For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill:
But the day-star attracted his eye's sad devotion,
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion,
He sang the bold anthem of Erin go bragh.

Sad is my fate! said the heart-broken stranger;
The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee,
But I have no refuge from famine and danger,
A home and a country remain not to me.
Never again in the green sunny bowers,
Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet
hours,

Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers,
And strike to the numbers of Erin

go bragh!

"Erin! my country!-though sad and forsaken
In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore !
But, alas! in a far, foreign land I awaken,

And sigh for the friends that can meet me no more! Oh! cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me

In a mansion of peace, where no perils can chase me?

Never again shall my brothers embrace me!-
They died to defend me !-or live to deplore ?

"Where is my cabin-door, fast by the wild wood ?
Sisters and sire, did ye weep for its fall?
Where is the mother that looked on my childhood?
And where is the bosom-friend dearer than all ?
Ah! my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure!
Why didst thou dote on a fast-fading treasure?
Tears, like the rain-drops, may fall without measure!
But rapture and beauty they cannot recall!

"Yet-all its sad recollections suppressing-
One dying wish my lone bosom shall draw :-
Erin! an exile bequeaths thee-his blessing!
Land of my forefathers! Erin go bragh!
Buried and cold, when my heart stills its motion,
Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean!
And thy harp-striking bards sing aloud with
devotion.

Erin mavourneen! Erin go bragh!"

THE DOWNFALL OF POLAND.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

O SACRED Truth! thy triumph ceased awhile,
And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile,

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