The Poetical Works of William Cowper: Of the Inner Temple, Esq, Volume 3

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Benjamin Johnson, Jacob Johnson, and Robert Johnson, 1806 - English poetry
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Page 123 - 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!
Page 121 - 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,
Page 119 - And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton, All in a chaise and pair. 'My sister, and my sister's child, Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride On horseback after we.
Page 140 - I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, Children not thine have trod my nursery floor ; And where the gardener Robin, day by day, Drew me to school along the public way, Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped, Tis now become a history little known, That once we called the pastoral house our own.
Page 142 - But no — what here we call our life is such So little to be loved, and thou so much, That I should ill requite thee to constrain Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast (The storms all...
Page 125 - What news? what news? your tidings tell ; Tell me you must and shall — Say why bare-headed 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.
Page 141 - All this, and more endearing still than all, Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall, Ne'er roughen'd by those cataracts and breaks, That humour interposed too often makes ; All this still legible in memory's page, And still to be so to my latest age. Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay Such honours to thee as my numbers may ; Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere, Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.
Page 140 - Tis now become a history little known, That once we called the pastoral house our own. Short-lived possession ! but the record fair, That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Page 26 - Tis easy to resign a toilsome place, But not to manage leisure with a grace; Absence of occupation is not rest, A mind quite vacant, is a mind distress'd.
Page 120 - For saddle-tree scarce reach'd 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.

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