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His heart with sudden joy is filled, —

His ears are by the music thrilled,

His 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.

"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 — over-head!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 vigour — "Tis 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 its feeling, Swinging from the smoky ceiling!

A steaming Bowl — a blazing fire —
What greater good can heart desire?
'Twere worth a wise man's while to try
The utmost anger of the sky;
To seek for thoughts of painful cast,
If such be the amends at last.

Now, should you think 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 Caesar 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
Deems that she is happier, laid
Within that warm and peaceful bed;

Under cover,

Terror over,
Sleeping by her sleeping Baby.

With bowl in hand,

(It may not stand) Gladdest of the gladsome band, Amid their own delight and fun, They hear — when every dance is done — They hear — when every fit 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;
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!

* 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.

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'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 honour,

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 — " 'Tis 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,

Burnt 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,

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