And when in port the happy crew were paid,
Home went the Sailor, with his pockets stored,
Ease to enjoy, and pleasure to afford;
His time was short, joy shone in every face,
Isaac half fainted in the fond embrace: 
The wife resolved her honour’d guest to please,
The children clung upon their uncle’s knees;
The grog went round, the neighbours drank his health,
And George exclaimed, “Ah! what to this is wealth? 
Better,” said he, “to bear a loving heart,
Than roll in riches—­but we now must part!”
   All yet is still—­but hark! the winds o’ersweep
The rising waves, and howl upon the deep;
Ships late becalm’d on mountain-billows ride —
So life is threaten’d and so man is tried. 
   Ill were the tidings that arrived from sea,
The worthy George must now a cripple be: 
His leg was lopp’d; and though his heart was sound,
Though his brave captain was with glory crown’d,
Yet much it vex’d him to repose on shore,
An idle log, and be of use no more: 
True, he was sure that Isaac would receive
All of his Brother that the foe might leave;
To whom the Seaman his design had sent,
Ere from the port the wounded hero went: 
His wealth and expectations told, he “knew
Wherein they fail’d, what Isaac’s love would do;
That he the grog and cabin would supply,
Where George at anchor during life would lie.” 
   The Landman read—­and, reading, grew distress’d:  —
“Could he resolve t’admit so poor a guest? 
Better at Greenwich might the Sailor stay,
Unless his purse could for his comforts pay.” 
So Isaac judged, and to his wife appealed,
But yet acknowledged it was best to yield: 
“Perhaps his pension, with what sums remain
Due or unsquander’d, may the man maintain;
Refuse we must not.”—­With a heavy sigh
The lady heard, and made her kind reply:  —
“Nor would I wish it, Isaac, were we sure
How long this crazy building will endure;
Like an old house, that every day appears
About to fall, he may be propp’d for years;
For a few months, indeed, we might comply,
But these old batter’d fellows never die.” 
   The hand of Isaac, George on entering took,
With love and resignation in his look;
Declared his comfort in the fortune past,
And joy to find his anchor safely cast: 
“Call then my nephews, let the grog be brought,
And I will tell them how the ship was fought.” 
   Alas! our simple Seaman should have known
That all the care, the kindness, he had shown,
Were from his Brother’s heart, if not his memory, flown: 
All swept away, to be perceived no more,
Like idle structures on the sandy shore,
The chance amusement of the playful boy,
That the rude billows in their rage destroy. 
   Poor George confess’d, though loth the truth to find,
Slight was his knowledge of a Brother’s mind: 
The vulgar pipe was to the wife offence,
The frequent grog to Isaac an expense;