The Children's Miscellany: In which is Included The History of Little Jack, by Thomas Day, Esq

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John Stockdale, Piccadilly, 1797 - 325ÆäÀÌÁö

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193 ÆäÀÌÁö - The bottles twain, behind his back, were shattered at a blow. Down ran the wine into the road, most piteous to be seen, Which made his horse's flanks to smoke as they had basted been. But still he...
193 ÆäÀÌÁö - Well done! As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin — who but he? His fame soon spread around; He carries weight! he rides a race! 'Tis for a thousand pound!
194 ÆäÀÌÁö - Said Gilpin — So am I ! But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there ; For why? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong ; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song.
202 ÆäÀÌÁö - Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A Youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown. Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.
202 ÆäÀÌÁö - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
196 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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; Whereat his horse did snort, as he Had heard a lion roar, And galloped off with all his might, As he had done before.
195 ÆäÀÌÁö - My head is twice as big as yours, They therefore needs must fit. "But let me scrape the dirt away That hangs upon your face; And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case.
192 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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.
198 ÆäÀÌÁö - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
201 ÆäÀÌÁö - Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn; "There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.

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