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I've thought of, sometimes, when amused with

these cavils, A passage I met with in somebody's travels, A merchant's,—who sailing from Greece to Triësté, Grew vex'd with the crew, and avowedly testy, Because, as he said, being lazy and Greeks, They were always for putting in harbours and

creeks, And instead of conveying him quick with his lading, (As any men would, who had due sense of trading) Could never come near a green isle with a spring, But smack they went to it, like birds on the wing; And taking their wine out, and strumming their

lutes, Fell drinking and dancing,-like so many brutes.

Ah, Will, there are some birds and beasts, I'm afraid, Who if they could peep upon some of the trade,


And see them pale, sneaking, proud, faithless of

trust, Midst their wainscotted twilight, and bundles, and

dust, Would wonder what strange kind of nest and of

blisses The creatures had picked from a world such as this is. Imagine, for instance, a lark at the casement Stand glancing his head about, deep in amazement; Then turning it up to the cloud-silvered skies, Strikes off to the fields with the air in his eyes, And heaving and heaving, thrill'd, quivering, and


Goes mounting his steps of wild music to heaven.

I blame (you'll bear witness) these tricksters and

hiders No more than I quarrel with bats or with spiders:All, all have their uses, though never so hideous ;But bats shouldn't fancy their eyesight prodigious.

You see I can't mention the country again,
But I'm off like a Harlequin, plump through the



Dear Field, my old friend, who love strait-forward


And will take it, like marriage, for better, for


Who cheered my fire-side, when we grew up toge

ther, And still warm iny heart in these times and this

weather; I know you'll be glad to see, under my hand, That I'm still, as the phrase is, alive in the land,

When you hear, that since meeting the bright-eyed

and witty, I've been asked to an absolute feast in the city!

Yes, Barron, no more of the Nelsons and Jervises :


-Dinner's the place for the hottest of services;
- There's the array, and the ardour to win,
The clashing, and splashing, and crashing, and din;
With fierce intercepting of convoys of butter,
And phrases and outcries tremendous to utter,-
Blood, devils, and drum-sticks,-now cut it—the

jowl thereBrains, bones, head and shoulders, and into the sole


The veterans too, round you--how obviously brave! What wounds and what swellings they bear to their


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