"One day as I was riding out,
Prowling the country round about,
A guide-post stood, in letter'd pride,
Close by the dusty high-road side:
With many towns for passage fam'd,
Oxford upon its points was nam'd,
Which instant call'd me to attend
To my kind patron Doctor Bend:
And then there 'rose within my breast
A thought that reason did suggest,
And not th' effect of boyish whim,
'Th' Attorney quit and fly to him.'—
—Soon after, by a lucky chance,
I heard what made my heart to dance,
That Cerberus would be from home,
At least for sev'ral days to come,
Though, when of me he took his leave,
He said, 'expect me home at eve,
But, as talk may the way beguile,'
He added, 'ride with me a mile.'
—This was the very thing I wish'd,
For now I felt the fox was dish'd.
He rode on first and bade me follow,
'Twas then that I began to hollow;
I had but one white lie to tell
And all things would be going well.
I said it was my guardian's whim
That I should make the tour with him,
And ask'd for a clean shirt or so
As I had such a way to go.
Thus my great-coat, most closely roll'd,
Did all the useful package hold,
And to the saddle strongly tied
I was completely satisfied,
As nought appear'd, thus pack'd together,
But a protection from the weather,
So that the lawyer's lynx's eye
Was clos'd on curiosity:
For Madam Gripe-all's ready care
Did, to my wish, the whole prepare.
Indeed, whatever she might be,
Her kindness never fail'd to me.
She frequently would call me son,
And say she lov'd me as her own;
Nay, when the clock struck, she would say,
'Kiss me as often, dear, I pray
As that same clock is heard to strike,
And oft'ner, dearest, if you like.' |