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English Narrative Poems
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English Narrative Poems

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ENGLISH NARRATIVE POEMS

Macmillan's Pocket American and English Classics

A Series of English Texts, edited for use in Elementary and Secondary Schools, with Critical Introductions, Notes, etc.

16mo  Cloth  25 cents each

Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley Andersen's Fairy Tales Arabian Nights' Entertainments Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum Austen's Pride and Prejudice Bacon's Essays Bible (Memorable Passages from) Blackmore's Lorna Doone Browning's Shorter Poems Browning, Mrs., Poems (Selected) Bryant's Thanatopsis, etc Bulwer's Last Days of Pompeii Bunyan's The Pilgrim's Progress Burke's Speech on Conciliation Burns' Poems (Selections from) Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Byron's Shorter Poems Carlyle's Essay on Burns Carlyle's Heroes and Hero Worship Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (Illustrated) Chaucer's Prologue and Knight's Tale Church's The Story of the Iliad Church's The Story of the Odyssey Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner Cooper's The Deerslayer Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans Cooper's The Spy Dana's Two Years Before the Mast Defoe's Robinson Crusoe De Quincey's Confessions of an English Opium-Eater De Quincey's Joan of Arc, and The English Mail-Coach Dickens' A Christmas Carol, and The Cricket on the Hearth Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities Dryden's Palamon and Arcite Early American Orations, 1760-1824 Edwards' (Jonathan) Sermons Eliot's Silas Marner Emerson's Essays Emerson's Early Poems Emerson's Representative Men English Narrative Poems Epoch-making Papers in U. S. History Franklin's Autobiography Gaskell's Cranford Goldsmith's The Deserted Village, She Stoops to Conquer, and The Good-natured Man Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield Gray's Elegy, etc., and Cowper's John Gilpin, etc Grimm's Fairy Tales Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair Hawthorne's Mosses from an Old Manse Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales Hawthorne's The House of the Seven Gables Hawthorne's Twice-told Tales (Selections from) Hawthorne's Wonder-Book Holmes' Poems Homer's Iliad (Translated) Homer's Odyssey (Translated) Hughes' Tom Brown's School Days Huxley's Autobiography and Lay Sermons Irving's Life of Goldsmith Irving's Knickerbocker Irving's The Alhambra Irving's Sketch Book Irving's Tales of a Traveller Keary's Heroes of Asgard Kingsley's The Heroes Lamb's The Essays of Elia Lincoln's Inaugurals and Speeches Longfellow's Evangeline Longfellow's Hiawatha Longfellow's Miles Standish Longfellow's Tales of a Wayside Inn Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launfal Macaulay's Essay on Addison Macaulay's Essay on Hastings Macaulay's Essay on Lord Clive Macaulay's Essay on Milton Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome Macaulay's Life of Samuel Johnson Milton's Comus and Other Poems Malory's Le Morte Darthur Milton's Paradise Lost, Books I. and II Old English Ballads Old Testament (Selections from) Out of the Northland Palgrave's Golden Treasury Parkman's Oregon Trail Plutarch's Lives (Cæsar, Brutus, and Mark Antony) Poe's Poems Poe's Prose Tales (Selections from) Pope's Homer's Iliad Pope's The Rape of the Lock Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies Ruskin's The Crown of Wild Olive and Queen of the Air Scott's Ivanhoe Scott's Kenilworth Scott's Lady of the Lake Scott's Lay of the Last Minstrel Scott's Marmion Scott's Quentin Durward Scott's The Talisman Shakespeare's As You Like It Shakespeare's Hamlet Shakespeare's Henry V Shakespeare's Julius Cæsar Shakespeare's King Lear Shakespeare's Macbeth Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice Shakespeare's Richard II Shakespeare's The Tempest Shakespeare's Twelfth Night Shelley and Keats: Poems Sheridan's The Rivals and The School for Scandal Southern Poets: Selections Southern Orators: Selections Spenser's Faerie Queene, Book I Stevenson's Kidnapped Stevenson's The Master of Ballantrae Stevenson's Travels with a Donkey, and An Inland Voyage Stevenson's Treasure Island Swift's Gulliver's Travels Tennyson's Idylls of the King Tennyson's The Princess Tennyson's Shorter Poems Thackeray's English Humourists Thackeray's Henry Esmond Thoreau's Walden Virgil's Æneid Washington's Farewell Address, and Webster's First Bunker Hill Oration Whittier's Snow-Bound and Other Early Poems Woolman's Journal Wordsworth's Shorter Poems

 


 


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id="pgepubid00006">THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd.
TORONTO

ENGLISH NARRATIVE POEMS

SELECTED AND EDITED
BY

CLAUDE M. FUESS

AND

HENRY N. SANBORN

INSTRUCTORS IN ENGLISH IN PHILLIPS ACADEMY
ANDOVER, MASSACHUSETTS

New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1911

All rights reserved

 

 

 

Copyright, 1909,

By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.

Set up and electrotyped. Published October, 1909.
Reprinted June, 1910; June, 1911.

 

 

 

Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

 


CONTENTS

  PAGE Introduction.  ix Cowper.     The Diverting History of John Gilpin   1 Burns.     Tam o' Shanter  11 Scott.     Lochinvar  19 Wordsworth.     Michael  21   Lucy Gray  36 Campbell.     Hohenlinden  39   Battle of the Baltic  40 Wolfe.     The Burial of Sir John Moore  43 Byron.     The Prisoner of Chillon  45   Mazeppa  58   The Destruction of Sennacherib  86 Keats.     The Eve of St. Agnes  88 Tennyson.     Dora 103   Œnone 108   Enoch Arden 117   The Revenge 146 Browning.     "How they brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix" 154   Incident of the French Camp 156   The Pied Piper of Hamelin 158   Hervé Riel 168 Rossetti.     The White Ship 175 Morris.     Atalanta's Race 187 Longfellow.     The Wreck of the Hesperus 211   Paul Revere's Ride
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class="pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">214 Whittier.     Skipper Ireson's Ride 219   Barclay of Ury 222   Barbara Frietchie 226 Holmes.     Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill Battle 230 Notes 241

INTRODUCTION

Narrative poetry is distinguished from other types of verse in that it aims to relate a connected series of events and, therefore, deals primarily with actions, rather than with thoughts or emotions. This definition, however, simple as it appears to be in theory, is often difficult to apply as a test because other matter is blended with the pure narrative. In any story where the situation is made prominent, description may be required to make clear the scene and explain movements to the reader; thus Enoch Arden begins with a word picture of a sea-coast town. Again it is often necessary to analyze the motives which actuate certain characters, and so it becomes necessary to introduce exposition of some sort into the plot. The poems in this collection serve to enforce the lesson that the four standard rhetorical forms—narration, description, exposition, and argumentation—are constantly being combined and welded in a complicated way. In cases where these various literary elements are apparently in a tangle, a classification, if it be made at all, must be based on the design of the poem as a whole, and the emphasis and proportion given to the respective elements by the author. If the stress is laid on the recounting of the events which make up a unified action, and if the other factors are made subordinate and subsidiary to this end, then the poem in question belongs to the narrative group.

The antiquity of the narrative as a form of literature is undisputed. Indeed it has been established with a reasonable degree of certainty that poetry in its very beginnings was narrative and in its primitive state must have been a sort of rude, rhythmical chant, originated and participated in by the tribe as a whole, and telling of the exploits of gods or legendary heroes. In the course of time there arose the minstrel, who, acting first as chorus leader, became eventually the representative of the tribe and its own special singer. When we reach a somewhat more advanced stage of civilization, we find regularly appointed bards reciting their lays in the hall of the chieftain or urging on the warriors to battle with rehearsals of past victories. Originally these bards simply repeated the old oral traditions handed down as common property, but the opportunity for the display of individual genius soon induced them to try variations on the current themes and to compose versions of their own. With this advance of individualism, poetry became gradually more complex. Various elements, lyrical, descriptive, and dramatic, assumed some prominence and tended to develop separate forms. This differentiation, however, did not impair the vigor of the story-telling spirit, and a constant succession of narrative poems down to the present day evidences how productive and characteristic a feature of our literature this form has been.

Obviously it is impracticable to undertake here even a brief summary of the history of English narrative poetry and of the influences to which it has been responsive. Something may, nevertheless, be done to map out roughly a few divisions which may be of assistance in bringing this material into orderly shape for the student. Many efforts at systematic classification have been made, and a few fairly well-marked types have been defined. In spite of this fact, the task still presents insuperable obstacles over which there has been futile controversy. One type is likely to run into another in a way which is uncomfortably baffling. Then there are numerous nondescript works whose proper place seems determinable by no law of poetics. The fact is that, here at least, narrow distinctions are bound to be unsatisfactory. The critic finds it imperative to avoid dogmatism lest he lay himself open to attack; his only refuge is in the general statement which may be suggestive even if it is not exact.

Of the fixed types, two of the best known, the Epic and the Ballad, were among the earliest to be created. The Epic in its original form was a long poem of uniform metre, serious in tone and elevated in style, introducing supernatural or heroic characters and usually dealing with some significant event in racial or national history. In its first or primitive shape it was anonymous, a spontaneous outgrowth of popular feeling, though perhaps arranged and revised at a later date by some conscious artistic hand. Such a primitive Epic is the old English Beowulf: it is thoroughly objective; in it no clew to definite authorship can be detected; in it personality is buried in the rush of incident and the clash of action. When, with the broadening of the scope of poetry, the individual writer displaced the tribe as the preserver of folk-lore, the new order of things evolved the so-called artificial Epic as represented by Milton's Paradise Lost. Here the conventional Epic style and material is kept; the universe is the stage, and the figures upon it are imposing and grand; but behind the poem is a single personality whose mood colors and modifies the whole. The Epic is no longer entirely racial or national, but individual; and we have the introduction of such passages as Milton's reference to his own blindness in Book Three.

Akin to the Epic is the Mock Epic, which appropriates the Epic machinery and Epic style to use them in dealing with trivialities. In Pope's The Rape of the Lock, the most artistic Mock Epic in English, the theft of a single lock of hair becomes an act of national and supernatural interest and a game of cards is described as if it were a mighty battle.

Almost parallel with and closely resembling the development of the Epic is that of the Ballad. Like the primitive Epic in anonymity and impersonality, the Ballad was much shorter, had rime and stanzas, and dealt, as a rule, with incidents of less importance. Not so formal or pretentious as the Epic, it was easily memorized even by the peasant, and handed down from generation to generation by word of mouth. Favorite subjects were the legends of Robin Hood, the misfortunes of nobles, and the incidents of Border warfare. Mixed in many of them was a tendency toward superstition, a survival of the belief in ghosts, magicians, and talking animals. Numerous examples gathered by antiquaries may be found in the edition of old English Ballads in this series; among

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the better known are The Wife of Usher's Well and Chevy Chase. Later poets naturally adapted the Ballad form to their own uses, and so we have the artificial Ballad, illustrated by Cowper's The History of John Gilpin, Longfellow's The Wreck of the Hesperus, and Swinburne's May Janet. In these poems many of the trite expressions so peculiar to the primitive Ballad are retained; but, like the artificial Epic, the work is no longer communal, but individual, in origin and bears the stamp of one mind animated by an artistic purpose.

In discussing the Epic and the Ballad one is on fairly safe ground, but between these types one finds a vast amount of poetry, evidently narrative, which suggests perplexing problems. Much of it may be made to come under what we term loosely the Metrical Romance. This title is often narrowed by scholars to apply strictly to a poetical genre, arising in the Middle Ages and brought into England by the Norman-French, which deals in a rambling way with the marvellous adventures of wandering knights or heroes. Its plot, in which love and combat are conspicuous features, is enveloped in a kind of glamour, an atmosphere of unreality. It drew its material from many diverse sources: from the legends of Troy and the stories of classical and Oriental antiquity; from the tales of the Frankish Emperor Charlemagne and his paladins; from the Celtic accounts of King Arthur and the Table Round. Since its characters, sometimes not without anachronism, embodied the chivalric ideals of courtesy and loyalty to ladies, hatred of paganism, and general conduct according to a prescribed but unwritten code, its appeal was made for the most part to the courtier and the aristocrat,—though it must be added that many of the robuster Charlemagne romances acquired currency with the humbler classes and were sung in the cottage of the peasant. The fact that the greater number of these Metrical Romances were mere redactions, taken from foreign models, makes them seem deficient in English interest. Still, several of the best were of native composition, an excellent example being the well-known Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight.

But even in spite of a few slight advantages to be gained, it seems unwise to restrict the Metrical Romance too closely. What we are accustomed to call, rather vaguely, romance is a persistent quality in narrative poetry, and is not limited to the literature of any particular age or rank of society. A cursory examination will disclose many evidences of the romantic spirit in both the Epic and the Ballad. And certainly Scott's The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Keats's The Eve of St. Agnes, Longfellow's Evangeline, and many other poems on similar themes must remain unclassified unless we designate them broadly as Metrical Romances. Of course, it is not essential that they should be pigeon-holed and put away with the right label affixed. However, one or two observations on the subject-matter with which works of this nature deal may assist us in avoiding embarrassing confusion. Sometimes the Metrical Romance (using the term in its broader sense) deals with authenticated incidents of history. In such cases, the narrative, founded as it is on matters of fact, is compelled to preserve substantial accuracy with regard to the events which it uses for a structure. The fancy is thus partly curbed through the necessity of not departing radically from the truth. This restraint, logically enough, does not prevent the introduction of fictitious characters or episodes; but in the strict historical poem, as in the historical novel, it does require adherence to chronology and a just representation of the period in which the action takes place. Occasionally this form approaches a poetical paraphrase, as in Rossetti's The White Ship. The nineteenth century was singularly prolific in works of this sort; notable among such works are Scott's Marmion, Tennyson's The Revenge, and Longfellow's Paul Revere's Ride. If the basis of the poem is mythological, we have a further species of the Metrical Romance. The stories clustered around the gods and goddesses of unsophisticated peoples are perennially attractive and offer a fruitful field to the poet. In the setting there is frequent opportunity for elaborate description, and there is often, as in Tennyson's Œnone and William Morris's Atalanta's Race, ornamentation used by the author that is more than ordinarily remarkable. For such poetry the Greek and Latin writers furnish a wealth of material for imitation. Nor have the myths of other races been neglected in recent years. Matthew Arnold's Balder Dead has its inspiration in the Norse Eddas and has its opening scene in Valhalla where Odin, father of the gods, presides over the immortals. William Morris's Sigurd the Volsing is an adaptation of the myths of the early Germans.

It is not aside from the point to refer here to the few poems in which the subject-matter of the Metrical Romance is used, strangely enough, as a means of teaching moral ideas. Spenser's Faerie Queene presents such an anomaly. In it conventional chivalric heroes undergo surprising and impossible adventures, battling and loving as in the legends of Charlemagne and Arthur. Indeed, in the Faerie Queene, Arthur himself appears as the protagonist. But these knights and ladies are, we learn, merely animated vices and virtues and are such, because, as Spenser takes pains to tell us, the poem, though romantic in mood, is allegorical in intention, its aim being "to fashion a gentleman or noble person in vertuous and gentle discipline." The author in using his characters as agents of moral instruction creates a type as much by itself as Pilgrim's Progress is in prose. Modern examples less conspicuous for visible allegorical intention are Tennyson's Idylls of the King, in which Arthurian material is once more revived with something of an ethical purpose.

There is still to be taken up a large body of poems, usually, though not always, shorter than the Metrical Romances, which deal with the situations of common life and with the humbler members of society. By some authorities the term Metrical Tale has been applied to such compositions; though it is hardly exact or specific, since the word "tale" is usually made synonymous with "story" and therefore does not connote a limited subject-matter. We may accept it in a provisional way as a convenient technical term for our purposes. The Metrical Tale, then, as contrasted with the Metrical Romance, attempts a realistic portrayal of the natural sorrows, losses, or pains which belong to our everyday experience. The emotions of which it treats are fundamentally strong and keep the style and versification from becoming overelaborated. The Metrical Tale may be humorous as in Chaucer's The Miller's Tale, or may be pathetic and tragic as in Tennyson's Enoch Arden or Wordsworth's Michael. In these poems it will be observed that the diction and phraseology are exceedingly simple. But here, too, candor requires the admission that the alleged difference between the Romance and the Tale is likely to bring on a charge of inconsistency. Enoch Arden, just now mentioned, abounds in romantic episodes, though Enoch and Philip and Annie dwell in a little fishing village. Why, if Chaucer chose to call his masterpiece the Canterbury Tales, should any one take the liberty of questioning his nomenclature? The query is well founded; and yet the reader must recognize a wide gulf in tone and spirit between The Knight's Tale and The Reeve's Tale. Call it, if you will, the distinction between idealism and realism; at

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any rate it exists, and ought to be made plain even at the risk of confronting dilemmas of another sort.

Having a kind of relationship to what we call arbitrarily the Metrical Tale is the Beast Fable in verse, in which animals and birds are endowed with reason and speech. The excuse for the Beast Fable is an ethical one, and the story, often humorous, is merely a vehicle for instruction,—a fact evident enough from the so-called moral appended to most Beast Fables. The best Beast Fables in English are those of John Gay.

It is beyond the scope of this introduction to make any but a passing reference to the forms of versification which have been used in narrative poetry. In general, the range of metres is wide and varied, though a few common lines and stanzas occur with much frequency. Blank Verse, a favorite Epic measure used by Milton in Paradise Lost, has also been effective in the Metrical Romance (Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum) and the Metrical Tale (Wordsworth's Michael). It is peculiarly fitting to longer poems of a serious character. The Heroic Couplet, made up of two rimed iambic pentameters, was invented by Chaucer and tried in many of the Canterbury Tales. It has since become very common, being the measure of such widely different poems as Marlowe's Hero and Leander, Pope's The Rape of the Lock, and Keats's Lamia. Octosyllabic verse is frequently found,—sometimes in rimed couplets as in Scott's Marmion, less often unrimed as in Longfellow's Hiawatha. In the couplet form it is especially suited to war poetry where a rapid movement is desirable. The standard four-lined ballad stanza with rimed alternate lines has continued in popularity with the artificial ballad writers and has been used in such poems as Wordsworth's Lucy Gray and Longfellow's The Wreck of the Hesperus. Most complicated of all the narrative stanzaic forms is the Spenserian stanza, devised by Spenser for his Faerie Queene and imitated by Keats in The Eve of St. Agnes. It has a stateliness which makes it well adapted to dignified themes. In some few examples there is a metre wholly irregular and following the movement of the story, as in Tennyson's The Revenge and Browning's Hervé Riel.

The discussion of narrative methods may be left to the will and discretion of the teacher. A study of the separate poems here presented will show that while the four almost indispensable elements of narration—plot, setting, characters, and motive—may usually be found, their use and emphasis vary greatly according to the theories and personalities of the authors. The employment of such arts of construction as suspense and climax may be discovered by the individual student, who should also test each poem for its unity, coherence, and proportion. In a collection such as this there is ample room for instructive criticism and comparison. But narrative poems may well be read for the interest they excite. If a narrative poem fails in this respect, it is all but condemned from the start. It is hoped that these examples may show the student that poetry is not always dull and lifeless; that it may possess at times all the features which make literature attractive as well as inspiring.

The editors are grateful for assistance rendered them by Mr. A. W. Leonard and Mr. Archibald Freeman, both instructors in Phillips Academy, Andover, Massachusetts.

 


WILLIAM COWPER

THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN

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

John Gilpin was a citizen Of credit and renown, A trainband captain eke[1] was he Of famous London town.
John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear,5 "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 repair10 Unto the Bell at Edmonton[2] All in a chaise and pair.
"My sister, and my sister's child, Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride15 On horseback after we.[3]"
He soon replied, "I do admire Of womankind but one, And you are she, my dearest dear, Therefore it shall be done.20
"I am a linendraper bold, As all the world doth know, And my good friend the calender[4] Will lend his horse to go."
Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said;25 And for that wine is dear, We will be furnished with our own, Which is both bright and clear."
John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife; O'erjoyed was he to find,30 That, though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind.
The morning came, the chaise was brought, But yet was not allow'd To drive up to the door, lest all35 Should say that she was proud.
So three doors off the chaise was stay'd, Where they did all get in; Six precious souls, and all agog[5] To dash through thick and thin.40
Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, Were never folks so glad, The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside
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tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">[6] were mad.
John Gilpin at his horse's side45 Seized fast the flowing mane, And up he got, in haste to ride, But soon came down again;
For saddletree[7] scarce reach'd had he His journey to begin,50 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,55 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!"60
"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!)65 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,70 And hung a bottle on each side, To make his balance true.
Then over all, that he might be Equipp'd from top to toe, His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat,75 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.80
But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot, Which gall'd him in his seat.
So, "fair and softly," John he cried,85 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,90 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 got95 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.100
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 discern105 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;110 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 [8]!115 '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.120
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,125 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;130 For all might see the bottle necks Still dangling at his waist.
Thus all through merry Islington[9] These gambols did he play, Until he came unto the Wash135 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.140
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,"145 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;150 For why?—his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware.
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href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@42058@[email protected]#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">[10]
So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong; So did he fly—which brings me to155 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.160
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;165 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;170 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,175 They are upon the road."
The calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin,[11] Return'd him not a single word, But to the house went in;180
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 turn185 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;190 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,195 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."200
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 he205 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:210 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,215 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."220
The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain[12]; Whom in a trice he tried to stop, By catching at his rein;
But not performing what he meant,225 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,230 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,235 They raised the hue and cry[13]:—
"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.240
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,245 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;"250 And when he next doth ride abroad, May I be there to see!

ROBERT BURNS

TAM O' SHANTER