Smack went the whip, round went the So stooping down, as needs he must 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, So down he came; for loss of time, '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 Now Mrs. 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, Though 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, Who cannot sit upright. He grasped the mane with both his hands, And eke with all his might. His horse, which never in that sort Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; He little dreamt when he set out, The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, Then might all people well discern The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all; And every soul cried out: Well done!' As loud as he could bewl. Away went Gilpin-who but he? And still, as fast as he drew near, And now, as he went bowing down His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, The bottles twain behind his back He manfully did throw. Now see him mounted once again But finding soon a smoother road So, Fair and softly,' John he cried, Were shattered at a blow. Down ran the wine into the road, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been. But still he seemed to carry weight, For all might see the bottle necks Thus all through merry Islington And there he threw the wash about On both sides of the way, At Edmonton, his loving wife Her tender husband, wondering much 'Stop, stop, John Gilpin!-Here's the house!' They all at once did cry; But yet his horse was not a whit So like an arrow swift he flew, Away went Gilpin out of breath, The calender, amazed to see His neighbour in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him : What news? what news? your tidings Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, Whence straight he came with hat and wig; A wig that flowed behind, A hat not much the worse for wear, He held them up, and in his turn 'But let me scrape the dirt away That hangs upon your face; Said John: 'It is my wedding-day, So turning to his horse, he said: "Twas for your pleasure you came here. You shall go back for mine.' Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast! Whereat his horse did snort, as he And galloped off with all his might, Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig: Now Mrs. Gilpin, when she saw She pulled out half-a-crown; And loved a timely joke; And thus unto the calender In merry guise he spoke : 'I came because your horse would come And, if I well forebode, My hat and wig will soon be here- The calender, right glad to find as We may add to the poet's text an explanation of the old phrase a merry pin' given in Fuller's Church History: At a grand synod of the clergy and laity, 3 Henry I.(1102 A.D), priests were prohibited from drinking at pins. This was a Dutch trick, but used in England. of artificial drunkenness, out of a cup marked with certain pins, and he accounted the best man who could nick the pin. drinking even unto it, whereas to go above or beneath it was a forfeiture. Hence probably the proverb, he is in a merry pin.' And all and each that passed that way And now the turnpike gates again And so he did, and won it too, Now let us sing, long the king, WILLIAM HAYLEY. WILLIAM HAYLEY (1745-1820), the biographer of Cowper, wrote various poetical works which enjoyed great popularity in their day. His principal work is 'The Triumphs of Temper,' a poem in six cantos (1781). He wrote also an Essay on History,' addressed to Gibbon (1780), an Essay on Epic Poetry' (1782), an Essay on Old Maids (1785), Essays on Sculpture,' addressed to Flaxman (1800), The Triumph of Music' (1804), &c. He wrote also various dramatic pieces and a Life of Milton' (1796). A gentleman by education and fortune, and fond of literary communication, Hayley enjoyed the acquaintance of most of the eminent men of his times. His over-strained sensibility and romantic tastes exposed him to ridicule, yet he was an amiable and accomplished man. It was through his personal application to Pitt that Cowper received his pension. He had-what appears to have been to him a sort of melancholy pride and satisfaction-the task of writing epitaphs for most of his friends, including Mrs. Unwin and Cowper. His life of Cowper appeared in 1803, and three years afterwards it was enlarged by a supplement. Hayley prepared memoirs of his own life, which he disposed of to a publisher on condition of his receiving an annuity for the remainder of his life. This annuity he enjoyed for twelve years. The memoirs appeared in two fine quarto volumes, but they failed to attract attention. Hayley had outlived his popularity, and his smooth but often unmeaning lines had vanished like chaff before the vigorous and natural outpourings of the modern muse. As a specimen of this once much-praised poet, we subjoin from his Essay on Epic Poetry' some lines on the death of his mother, which had the merit of delighting Gibbon, and with which Southey has remarked Cowper would sympathise deeply: Tribute to a Mother, on her Death. Whom health, too tender for the bustling throng, Let the blest art my grateful thoughts employ, And magnify with irritation's zeal, Those common evils we too strongly feel, If heartfelt pain e'er led me to accuse Thou tender saint, to whom he owes much more In life's first season, when the fever's flame "Twas thine, with constant love, through lingering years, To bathe thy idiot orphan in thy tears; Day after day, and night succeeding night, Could lend no aid to save thee from despair, Thy fond maternal heart adhered to hope and prayer. Nature, who decked thy form with beauty's flowers. Exhausted on thy soul her finer powers; Taught it with all her energy to feel Love's melting softness, friendship's fervid zeal, The generous purpose and the active thought, There all the best of mental gifts she placed, Superior parts without their spleenful leaven, While my fond thoughts o'er all thy merits roll, Ranks with her dearest sons his favourite name. On the Tomb of Mrs. Unwin. And watched a poet through misfortune's vale. For all who read his verse revere her name. DR. ERASMUS DARWIN. DR. ERASMUS DARWIN (1731-1802), an ingenious philosophical, though fanciful poet, was born at Elston, near Newark. Having passed with credit through a course of education at St. John's College, Cambridge, he applied himself to the study of physic, and took his degree of bachelor in medicine at Edinburgh in 1755. He then commenced practice in Nottingham, but meeting with little encouragement, he removed to Lichfield, where he long continued a successful and distinguished physician. In 1757 Dr. Darwin married an accomplished lady of Lichfield, Miss Mary Howard, by whom he had five children, two of whom died in infancy. The lady herself died in 1770; and after her decease, Darwin seems to have commenced his botanical and literary pursuits. He was at first afraid that the reputation of a poet would injure him in his profession, but being firmly established in the latter capacity, he at length ventured on publication. At this time he lived in a picturesque villa in the neighbourhood of Lichfield, furnished with a grotto and fountain, and here he began the formation of a botanic garden. The spot he has described as adapted to love-scenes, and as being thence a proper residence for the modern goddess of botany.' In 1781 appeared the first part of Darwin's Botanic Garden,' a poem in glittering and polished heroic verse, designed to describe, adorn, and allegorise the Linnæan system of botany. The Rosicrucian doctrine of gnomes, sylphs, nymphs, and salamanders, was adopted by the poet, as affording a |