Part 9

By this, my panting, but unconquered steed Had thrown his small head backward, and his breath Through the red nostrils burst in labored sighs; I bent above his outstretched neck, I threw My quivering arms about him, murmuring low, "Good horse! brave heart! a little longer bear The strain, the travail; and thenceforth for thee Free pastures all thy days, till death shall come! Ah, many and many a time, my noble bay, Her lily hand hath wandered through thy mane, Patted thy rainbow neck, and brought thee ears Of daintiest corn from out the farmhouse loft,-- Help, help to save her now!"

I'll vow the brute Heard me, and comprehended what he heard! He shook his proud crest madly, and his eye Turned for a moment sideways, flashed in mine A lightning gleam, whose fiery language said, "I know my lineage, will not shame my sire,-- My sire, who rushed triumphant 'twixt the flags, And frenzied thousands, when on Epsom downs Arcturus won the Derby!--no, nor shame My granddam, whose clean body, half enwrought Of air, half fire, through swirls of desert sand Bore Sheik Abdallah headlong on his prey!"

At last came forest shadows, and the road Winding through bush and bracken, and at last The hoarse stream rumbling o'er its quartz-sown crags.

"No, no! stanch Widderin! pause not now to drink; An hour hence, and thy dainty nose shall dip In richest wine, poured jubilantly forth To quench thy thirst, my Beauty! but press on, Nor heed these sparkling waters." God! my brain's On fire once more! an instant tells me all; All! life or death,--salvation or despair! For yonder, o'er the wild grass-matted slope The house stands, or it stood but yesterday.

A Titan cry of inarticulate joy I raised, as, calm and peaceful in the sun, Shone the fair cottage, and the garden-close, Wherein, white-robed, unconscious, sat my Love Lilting a low song to the birds and flowers. She heard the hoof-strokes, saw me, started up, And with her blue eyes wider than their wont, And rosy lips half tremulous, rushed to meet And greet me swiftly. "Up, dear Love!" I cried, "The Convicts, the Bush-rangers! let us fly!" Ah, then and there you should have seen her, friend, My noble, beauteous Helen! not a tear, Nor sob, and scarce a transient pulse-quiver, As, clasping hand in hand, her fairy foot Lit like a small bird on my horseman's boot, And up into the saddle, lithe and light, Vaulting she perched, her bright curls round my face!

We crossed the river, and, dismounting, led O'er the steep slope of blended rock and turf The wearied horse, and there behind a Tor Of castellated bluestone, paused to sweep With young keen eyes the broad plain stretched afar, Serene and autumn-tinted at our feet: "Either," said I, "these devils have gone east, To meet with bloodhound Desborough in his rage Between the granite passes of Luxorme, Or else--dear Christ! my Helen, low! stoop low!" (These words were hissed in horror, for just then, 'Twixt the deep hollows of the river-vale, The miscreants, with mixed shouts and curses, poured Down through the flinty gorge tumultuously, Seeming, we thought, in one fierce throng to charge Our hiding-place.) I seized my Widderin's head, Blindfolding him, for with a single neigh Our fate were sealed o' the instant! As they rode, Those wild, foul-languaged demons by our lair, Scarce twelve yards off, my troubled steed shook wide His streaming mane, stamped on the earth, and pawed So loudly, that the sweat of agony rolled Down my cold forehead; at which point I felt My arm clutched, and a voice I did not know Dropped the low murmur from pale, shuddering lips, "O God! if in those brutal hands I fall, Living, look not into your mother's face Or any woman's more!"

What time had passed Above our bowed heads, we pent, pinioned there By awe and nameless horror, who shall tell? Minutes, perchance, by mortal measurement, Eternity by heart-throbs!--when at length We turned, and eyes of mutual wonder raised, We gazed on alien faces, haggard, worn, And strange of feature as the faces born In fever and delirium! Were we saved? We scarce could comprehend it, till from out The neighboring oak-wood rode our friends at speed, With clang of steel, and eyebrows bent in wrath. But, warned betimes, the wily ruffians fled Far up the forest-coverts, and beyond The dazzling snow-line of the distant hills, Their yells of fiendish laughter pealing faint And fainter from the cloudland, and the mist That closed about them like an ash-gray shroud: Yet were these wretches marked for imminent death: The next keen sunrise pierced the savage gorge, To which we tracked them, where, mere beasts at bay, Grimly they fought, and brute by brute they fell.

_Paul Hamilton Hayne._

THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN.

SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN.

John Gilpin was a citizen Of credit and renown, A trainband captain eke was he Of famous London town.

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, "Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen.

"To morrow is our wedding-day, 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."

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 saddle-tree 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 bear 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 naught; 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 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 fell 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 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, 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 comely 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 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 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.

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country far away, She pulled 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."

The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain; Whom in a trice he tried to stop By catching at his rein,

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 stopped 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!"

_William Cowper._

REFLECTIONS OF A PROUD PEDESTRIAN.

I saw the curl of his waving lash, And the glance of his knowing eye, And I knew that he thought he was cutting a dash, As his steed went thundering by.

And he may ride in the rattling gig, Or flourish the Stanhope gay, And dream that he looks exceeding big To the people that walk in the way;

But he shall think, when the night is still, On the stable-boy's gathering numbers, And the ghost of many a veteran bill Shall hover around his slumbers;

The ghastly dun shall worry his sleep, And constables cluster around him, And he shall creep from the wood-hole deep Where their spectre eyes have found him!

Ay! gather your reins, and crack your thong, And bid your steed go faster; He does not know, as he scrambles along, That he has a fool for his master;

And hurry away on your lonely ride, Nor deign from the mire to save me; I will paddle it stoutly at your side With the tandem that nature gave me!

_Oliver Wendell Holmes._