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Away went Gilpin, and away
Went postboy at his heels, The postboy's horse right glad to miss
The lumb'ring of the wheels.
Six gentlemen upon the road,
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
They rais'd the hue and cry:
Stop thief! stop thief!-a highwayman!
Not one of them was mute;
Did join in the pursuit.
And now the turnpike gates again
Flew open in short space;
That Gilpin rode a race.
And so he did, and won it too,
For he got first to town;
He did again get 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!
AN AFFLICTED PROTESTANT LADY IN FRANCE.
The path of sorrow, and that path alone, Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown; No trav'ller ever reach'd that blest abode, Who found not thorns and briers in his road. The World may dance along the flow'ry plain, Cheer'd as they go by many a sprightly strain, Where Nature has her mossy velvet spread, , With unshod feet they yet securely tread,
Admonish'd, scorn the caution and the friend,
EPISTLE TO A LADY IN FRANCE.
Ah, be not sad, although thy lot be cast Far from the flock, and in a boundless waste ! No shepherd's tents within thy view appear, But the chief Shepherd even there is near; Thy tender sorrows and thy plaintive strain Flow in a foreign land, but not in vain; Thy tears all issue from a source divine, And ev'ry drop bespeaks a Saviour thine So once in Gideon's fleece the dews were found, And drought on all the droopir.g herbs around.