With just the virtues that his father lack’d. 
   George lived at sea:  upon the land a guest —
He sought for recreation, not for rest;
While, far unlike, his brother’s feebler form
Shrank from the cold, and shudder’d at the storm;
Still with the Seaman’s to connect his trade,
The boy was bound where blocks and ropes were made. 
   George, strong and sturdy, had a tender mind,
And was to Isaac pitiful and kind;
A very father, till his art was gain’d,
And then a friend unwearied he remain’d;
He saw his brother was of spirit low,
His temper peevish, and his motions slow;
Not fit to bustle in a world, or make
Friends to his fortune for his merit’s sake;
But the kind sailor could not boast the art
Of looking deeply in the human heart;
Else had he seen that this weak brother knew
What men to court—­what objects to pursue;
That he to distant gain the way discern’d,
And none so crooked but his genius learn’d. 
   Isaac was poor, and this the brother felt;
He hired a house, and there the Landman dwelt,
Wrought at his trade, and had an easy home,
For there would George with cash and comforts come;
And when they parted, Isaac look’d around
Where other friends and helpers might be found. 
   He wish’d for some port-place, and one might fall,
He wisely thought, if he should try for all;
He had a vote—­and were it well applied,
Might have its worth—­and he had views beside;
Old Burgess Steel was able to promote
An humble man who served him with a vote;
For Isaac felt not what some tempers feel,
But bow’d and bent the neck to Burgess Steel;
And great attention to a lady gave,
His ancient friend, a maiden spare and grave;
One whom the visage long and look demure
Of Isaac pleased—­he seem’d sedate and pure;
And his soft heart conceived a gentle flame
For her who waited on this virtuous dame. 
Not an outrageous love, a scorching fire,
But friendly liking and chastised desire;
And thus he waited, patient in delay,
In present favour and in fortune’s way. 
   George then was coasting—­war was yet delay’d,
And what he gain’d was to his brother paid;
Nor ask’d the Seaman what he saved or spent,
But took his grog, wrought hard, and was content;
Till war awaked the land, and George began
To think what part became a useful man: 
“Press’d, I must go:  why, then, ’tis better far
At once to enter like a British tar,
Than a brave captain and the foe to shun,
As if I fear’d the music of a gun.” 
“Go not!” said Isaac—­“you shall wear disguise.” 
“What!” said the Seaman, “clothe myself with lies!”
“Oh! but there’s danger.”—­“Danger in the fleet? 
You cannot mean, good brother, of defeat;
And other dangers I at land must share —
So now adieu! and trust a brother’s care.” 
   Isaac awhile demurr’d—­but, in his heart,
So might he share, he was disposed to part: