I'll set, my friends, to do you honour,
Set every inch of sail upon her."

So said, so done; and masts, sails, yards,
He names them all; and interlards
His speech with uncouth terms of art,
Accomplished in the showman's part;
And then, as from a sudden check,
Cries out ""Tis there, the quarter-deck
On which brave Admiral Nelson stood—
A sight that would have roused your blood!
One eye he had, which, bright as ten,
Burned like a fire among his men;
Let this be land, and that be sea,
Here lay the French—and thus came we!"
Hushed was by this the fiddle's sound,
The dancers all were gathered round,
And, such the stillness of the house,
You might have heard a nibbling mouse;
While, borrowing helps where'er he may,
The Sailor through the story runs
Of ships to ships and guns to guns;
And does his utmost to display
The dismal conflict, and the might
And terror of that marvellous night!
"A bowl, a bowl of double measure,'
Cries Benjamin, "a draught of length,
To Nelson, England's pride and treasure,
Her bulwark and her tower of strength!
When Benjamin had seized the bowl,
The mastiff, from beneath the waggon,
Where he lay, watchful as a dragon,
Rattled his chain;-'twas all in vain,
For Benjamin, triumphant soul!

He heard the monitory growl;
Heard-and in opposition quaffed

A deep, determined, desperate draught!
Nor did the battered Tar forget,

Or flinch from what he deemed his debt:
Then, like a hero crowned with laurel,
Back to her place the ship he led ;
Wheeled her back in full apparel;
And so, flag flying at mast head,
Re-yoked her to the Ass:-anon,
Cries Benjamin, "We must be gone."
Thus, after two hours' hearty stay,
Again behold them on their way!

CANTO THIRD.

RIGHT gladly had the horses stirred,
When they the wished-for greeting heard,
The whip's loud notice from the door,
That they were free to move once more.
You think, those doings must have bred
In them disheartening doubts and dread;
No, not a horse of all the eight,

Although it be a moonless night,
Fears either for himself or freight;
For this they know (and let it hide,
In part, the offences of their guide)
That Benjamin, with clouded brains,
Is worth the best with all their pains;
And, if they had a prayer to make,
would be that they may

The VOL. II.

prayer

take

With him whatever comes in course,
The better fortune or the worse;

That no one else may have business near them,
And, drunk or sober, he may steer them.
So, forth in dauntless mood they fare,
And with them goes the guardian pair.
Now, heroes, for the true commotion,
The triumph of your late devotion!
Can aught on earth impede delight,
Still mounting to a higher height;
And higher still-a greedy flight!
any low-born care pursue her,

Can

Can

any mortal clog come to her?
No notion have they-not a thought,
That is from joyless regions brought!
And, while they coast the silent lake,
Their inspiration I partake;
Share their empyreal spirits—yea,
With their enraptured vision, see—
O fancy-what a jubilee!

What shifting pictures-clad in gleams
Of colour bright as feverish dreams!
Earth, spangled sky, and lake serene,
Involved and restless all-a scene
Pregnant with mutual exaltation,
Rich change, and multiplied creation!
This sight to me the Muse imparts ;—
And then, what kindness in their hearts!
What tears of rapture, what vow-making,
Profound entreaties, and hand-shaking!
What solemn, vacant, interlacing,
As if they'd fall asleep embracing!

Then, in the turbulence of glee,
And in the excess of amity,

Says Benjamin, "That Ass of thine,
He spoils thy sport, and hinders mine:
If he were tethered to the waggon,
He'd drag as well what he is dragging;
And we, as brother should with brother,
Might trudge it alongside each other!"

Forthwith, obedient to command,
The horses made a quiet stand;
And to the waggon's skirts was tied
The Creature, by the Mastiff's side,
The Mastiff wondering, and perplext
With dread of what will happen next;
And thinking it but sorry cheer,
To have such company so near!

This new arrangement made, the Wain
Through the still night proceeds again;
No Moon hath risen her light to lend;
But indistinctly may be kenned
The VANGUARD, following close behind,
Sails spread, as if to catch the wind!

Thy wife and child are snug and warm, Thy ship will travel without harm;

I like," said Benjamin, "her shape and stature: And this of mine-this bulky creature

Of which I have the steering-this,

Seen fairly, is not much amiss!

We want your streamers, friend, you know;

But, altogether as we go,

We make a kind of handsome show!

Among these hills, from first to last,
We've weathered many a furious blast;

Hard passage forcing on, with head
Against the storm, and canvass spread.
I hate a boaster; but to thee

Will say 't, who know'st both land and sea,
The unluckiest hulk that stems the brine
Is hardly worse beset than mine,
When cross-winds on her quarter beat;
And, fairly lifted from my feet,

I stagger onward-heaven knows how;
But not so pleasantly as now:
Poor pilot I, by snows confounded,
And many a foundrous pit surrounded!
Yet here we are, by night and day
Grinding through rough and smooth our way;
Through foul and fair our task fulfilling;
And long shall be so yet-God willing!"
"Ay," said the Tar, "through fair and foul—
But save us from yon screeching owl!"
That instant was begun a fray

Which called their thoughts another way:
The mastiff, ill-conditioned carl!
What must he do but growl and snarl,

Still more and more dissatisfied

With the meek comrade at his side!
Till, not incensed though put to proof,
The Ass, uplifting a hind hoof,
Salutes the Mastiff on the head;

And so were better manners bred,

And all was calmed and quieted.

"Yon screech-owl," says the Sailor, turning

Back to his former cause of mourning,

"Yon owl!-pray God that all be well!

'Tis worse than any funeral bell;