He hears a sound and sees the light,
And in a moment calls to mind
That 't is the village MERRY-NIGHT!

Although before in no dejection, At this insidious recollection

His

His heart with sudden joy is filled, -
His ears are by the music thrilled,
eyes take pleasure in the road
Glittering before him bright and broad;
And Benjamin is wet and cold,

And there are reasons manifold

That make the good, tow'rds which he 's yearning, Look fairly like a lawful earning.

Nor has thought time to come and go,

To vibrate between yes and no ;
For, cries the Sailor, "Glorious chance
That blew us hither! — let him dance,
Who can or will!

my honest soul, Our treat shall be a friendly bowl!" He draws him to the door,

"Come in, Come, come," cries he to Benjamin !

And Benjamin — ah, woe is me!
Gave the word; the horses heard
And halted, though reluctantly.

* A term well known in the North of England, and applied to rural festivals where young persons meet in the evening for the purpose of dancing.

"Blithe souls and lightsome hearts have we, Feasting at the CHERRY-TREE!"

This was the outside proclamation,

This was the inside salutation;

What bustling-jostling - high and low!
A universal overflow!

What tankards foaming from the tap!
What store of cakes in every lap!

What thumping — stumping — overhead!

The thunder had not been more busy :
With such a stir, you would have said,
This little place may well be dizzy!
"Tis who can dance with greatest vigor, —
"T is what can be most prompt and eager ;
As if it heard the fiddle's call,
The pewter clatters on the wall;
The very bacon shows it feeling,
Swinging from the smoky ceiling!

A steaming bowl, a blazing fire, What greater good can heart desire? 'T were worth a wise man's while to try

The utmost anger of the sky,

To seek for thoughts of a gloomy cast,

If such the bright amends at last.
Now should you say I judge amiss,
The CHERRY-TREE shows proof of this;

For soon, of all the happy there,
Our travellers are the happiest pair;
All care with Benjamin is gone,

A Cæsar past the Rubicon !

He thinks not of his long, long strife ;
The Sailor, Man by nature gay,
Hath no resolves to throw away;
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,
Under cover,

Terror over,

Sleeping by her sleeping Baby.

--

With bowl that sped from hand to hand,
The gladdest of the gladsome band,
Amid their own delight and fun,

They hear when every dance is done,

When

every whirling bout is o'er

The fiddle's squeak,* that call to bliss,

Ever followed by a kiss;

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
That he was lame) across the floor,

Is gone,

returns, and with a prize;

-

* At the close of each strathspey, or jig, a particular note from the fiddle summons the Rustic to the agreeable duty of saluting his partner.

With what?a Ship of lusty size;
A gallant, stately Man-of-war,
Fixed on a smoothly sliding car.
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, -
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 I've much in little here!
A nobler ship did never swim,

And you shall see her in full trim :
I'll set, my friends, to do you honor,
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,

66

""T is 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 wagon,
Where he lay, watchful as a dragon,
Rattled his chain; t' was all in vain,

For Benjamin, triumphant soul!

He heard a 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 masthead,

Re-yoked her to the Ass:

:- anon,

Cries Benjamin, "We must be gone."