A steaming bowl, a blazing fire,
  What greater good can heart desire? 
  ’Twere worth a wise man’s while to try
  The utmost anger of the sky:  350
  To seek for thoughts of a gloomy cast,
  If such the bright amends at last. [38]
  Now should you say [39] I judge amiss,
  The CHERRY TREE shows proof of this;
  For soon of all [40] the happy there, 355
  Our Travellers are the happiest pair;
  All care with Benjamin is gone—­
  A Caesar past the Rubicon! 
  He thinks not of his long, long strife;—­
  The Sailor, Man by nature gay, 360
  Hath no resolves to throw away; [41]
  And he hath now forgot his Wife,
  Hath quite forgotten her—­or may be
  Thinks her the luckiest soul on earth,
  Within that warm and peaceful berth, [42] 365
             Under cover,
             Terror over,
  Sleeping by her sleeping Baby.

  With bowl that sped from hand to hand,

The gladdest of the gladsome band, 370
Amid their own delight and fun, [43]
They hear—­when every dance is done,
When every whirling bout is o’er—­[44]
The fiddle’s squeak [G]—­that call to bliss,
Ever followed by a kiss; 375
They envy not the happy lot,
But enjoy their own the more!

    While thus our jocund Travellers fare,
  Up springs the Sailor from his chair—­
  Limps (for I might have told before 380
  That he was lame) across the floor—­
  Is gone—­returns—­and with a prize;
  With what?—­a Ship of lusty size;
  A gallant stately Man-of-war,
  Fixed on a smoothly-sliding car. 385
  Surprise to all, but most surprise
  To Benjamin, who rubs his eyes,
  Not knowing that he had befriended
  A Man so gloriously attended!

    “This,” cries the Sailor, “a Third-rate is—­390
  Stand back, and you shall see her gratis! 
  This was the Flag-ship at the Nile,
  The Vanguard—­you may smirk and smile,
  But, pretty Maid, if you look near,
  You’ll find you’ve much in little here! 395
  A nobler ship did never swim,
  And you shall see her in full trim: 
  I’ll set, my friends, to do you honour,
  Set every inch of sail upon her.” 
  So said, so done; and masts, sails, yards, 400
  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 405
  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, 410
  Here lay the French—­and thus came we!” [H]