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 linendraper bold, as all the world doth know; And my good friend, the calender, will lend his horse to go."

Quoth Mrs. 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 folks 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 saddletree 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 wear 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.

His horse, who never in that sort had handled been before, What thing upon his back had got did wonder more and more.

Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; away went hat and wig; He little dreamt, when he set out, of running such a rig.

The wind did blow--the cloak did fly, like streamer long and gay; Till, loop and b.u.t.ton failing both, at last it flew away.

Then might all people well discern the bottles he had slung-- A bottle swinging at each side, as hath been said or sung.

The dogs did bark, the children screamed, up flew the windows all; And every soul cried out, "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!"

And still as fast as he drew near, 'twas wonderful to view How in a trice the turnpike men their gates wide open threw.

And now, as he went bowing down his reeking head full low, 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 seemed to carry weight, with leathern girdle braced; For all might see the bottle necks still dangling at his waist.

Thus all through merry Islington these gambols did he play, Until he came unto the Wash of Edmonton so gay;

And there he threw the wash about on both sides of the way, Just like unto a trundling mop, or a wild goose at play.

At Edmonton his loving wife from the balcony spied Her tender husband, wondering much to see how he did ride.

"Stop, stop, John Gilpin! here's the house," they all at once did cry; "The dinner waits, and we are tired." 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.

Away went Gilpin out of breath, and sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's his horse at last stood still.

The calender, amazed to see his neighbor in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, and thus accosted him:

"What news? what news? your tidings tell; tell me you must and shall-- Say why bareheaded you are come, or why you come at all?"

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, 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, they are upon the road."

The calender, right glad to find his friend in merry pin, Returned him not a single word, but to the house went in;

Whence straight he came with hat and wig: a wig that flowed behind, A hat not much the worse for wear--each comedy in its kind.

He held them up, and in his turn thus showed his ready wit-- "My head is twice as big as yours, they therefore needs must fit.

"But let me sc.r.a.pe the dirt away that hangs upon your face, And stop and eat, for well you may be in a hungry case."

Said John, "It is my wedding-day, and all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmonton, and I should dine at Ware."

So, turning to his horse, he said, "I am in haste to dine; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here--you shall go back for mine."

Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast, for which he paid full dear!

For, while he spake, a braying a.s.s 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.

Away went Gilpin, and away went Gilpin's hat and wig: He lost them sooner than at first, for why?--they were too big.