Near these a Sailor, in that hut of thatch
(A fish-boat’s cabin is its nearest match),
Dwells, and the dungeon is to him a seat,
Large as he wishes—­in his view complete: 
A lockless coffer and a lidless hutch
That hold his stores, have room for twice as much: 
His one spare shirt, long glass, and iron box,
Lie all in view; no need has he for locks: 
Here he abides, and, as our strangers pass,
He shows the shipping, he presents the glass;
He makes (unask’d) their ports and business known,
And (kindly heard) turns quickly to his own,
Of noble captains, heroes every one, —
You might as soon have made the steeple run;
And then his messmates, if you’re pleased to stay,
He’ll one by one the gallant souls display,
And as the story verges to an end,
He’ll wind from deed to deed, from friend to friend;
He’ll speak of those long lost, the brave of old,
As princes gen’rous and as heroes bold;
Then will his feelings rise, till you may trace
Gloom, like a cloud, frown o’er his manly face, —
And then a tear or two, which sting his pride;
These he will dash indignantly aside,
And splice his tale;—­now take him from his cot,
And for some cleaner berth exchange his lot,
How will he all that cruel aid deplore? 
His heart will break, and he will fight no more. 
   Here is the poor old Merchant:  he declined,
And, as they say, is not in perfect mind;
In his poor house, with one poor maiden friend,
Quiet he paces to his journey’s end. 
   Rich in his youth, he traded and he fail’d;
Again he tried, again his fate prevail’d;
His spirits low, and his exertions small,
He fell perforce, he seem’d decreed to fall: 
Like the gay knight, unapt to rise was he,
But downward sank with sad alacrity. 
A borough-place we gain’d him—­in disgrace
For gross neglect, he quickly lost the place;
But still he kept a kind of sullen pride,
Striving his wants to hinder or to hide;
At length, compell’d by very need, in grief
He wrote a proud petition for relief. 
   “He did suppose a fall, like his, would prove
Of force to wake their sympathy and love;
Would make them feel the changes all may know,
And stir them up a due regard to show.” 
   His suit was granted;—­to an ancient maid,
Relieved herself, relief for him was paid: 
Here they together (meet companions) dwell,
And dismal tales of man’s misfortunes tell: 
“’Twas not a world for them, God help them, they
Could not deceive, nor flatter, nor betray;
But there’s a happy change, a scene to come,
And they, God help them! shall be soon at home.” 
   If these no pleasures nor enjoyments gain,
Still none their spirits nor their speech restrain;
They sigh at ease, ’mid comforts they complain,
The poor will grieve, the poor will weep and sigh,
Both when they know, and when they know not why;
But we our bounty with such care bestow,