Read Ebook: Graded Poetry: Seventh Year by Alexander Georgia Editor Blake Katherine Devereux Editor
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page
Ebook has 423 lines and 24000 words, and 9 pages
"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 grasp'd 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 button 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 scream'd, 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 shatter'd 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 seem'd 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 forbode, My hat and wig will soon be here, They are upon the road."
The calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin, Return'd him not a single word, But to the house went in;
Whence straight he came with hat and wig, A wig that flow'd behind, A hat not much the worse for wear, Each comely in its kind.
He held them up, and in his turn Thus show'd his ready wit, "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."
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 ass Did sing most loud and clear;
Whereat his horse did snort, as he Had heard a lion roar, And gallop'd 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.
Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country far away, She pull'd out half a crown;
And thus unto the youth she said, That drove them to the Bell, "This shall be yours, when you bring back My husband safe and well."
But not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done, The frighted steed he frighted more, And made him faster run.
Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels, The postboy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels.
Six gentlemen upon the road, Thus seeing Gilpin fly, With postboy scampering in the rear, They raised the hue and cry:--
"Stop thief! stop thief!--a highwayman!" Not one of them was mute; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit.
And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; The toll-men thinking as before, That Gilpin rode a race.
And so he did, and won it too, For he got first to town; Nor stopp'd till where he had got up 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!
ROBERT BURNS SCOTLAND, 1759-1796
BANNOCKBURN
ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed Or to victorie!
Now's the day, and now's the hour; See the front o' battle lower; See approach proud Edward's power-- Chains and slaverie!
Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa', Let him follow me!
Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow!-- Let us do or die!
MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go. Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, The birthplace of valor, the country of worth: Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands forever I love.
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page