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But on the peaceful bosom of the Lee,
Seated in Steam Boat cabin, or on deck, Where men and manners I may safely see,
Fearless of tempest and secure from wreck;
Cracking a leg, or breaking a man's veck.
'Twas Sunday morning, and the chapel bell
Of Brunswick-street awoke me before seven; While that of Christ-church, with its sober swell,
Toll’d out its accents, solemn, slow, and even, Telling, as plainly as a bell could tell,
'Twas time to rise, and make our peace with heav'n. Such invitation thus the soul to save, is his Who lodges on the Grand Parade, at Daries's,
The morn was splendid, and the glorious sun
Obliquely darted his enliv’ning rays,
He fill'd my chamber with a burning blaze
And woke with disappointment and amaze,
But gladly, by my oracle, perceiving
'Twas early, I arose, and set in motion All apparatus fit for dressing, shaving,
Resolving to proceed to my devotion
That public prayer on sunday, is a notion
But if there be Omnipotence divine,
And that there is, “all nature cries aloud "Thro' all her works," then why should man decline,
The only being in creation's crowd, -
Each sabbath day, ere death's appalling shroud
Being at length in sunday-suit attir'd
I sallied forth, on holy purpose bent,
To tell the reader is not my intent;
By those who love religious argument. But as I court admirers in all nations, I'll be, Napoleon-like, of all persuasions!
For seriously, I cannot be persuaded
One sect stands nearer heaven than another, Or is by holier inspiration aided,
As if we were not the offspring of one mother !
But as I view each mortal as my brother,
For who can think the spirit of Lee Boo
Dwells not within the mansions of the blest?
Repose not in a state of blissful rest?
Can have conviction on his mind impress'd
Ah! wherefore then this fiendelike hellish strife,
Where love and peace and harmony should dwell ? Can the fir'd faggot, and the bloody knife
Exalt to heaven, precipitate to hell ?
A diff'rent form of worship to compell?
Hungry I enter'd the Commercial room
To breakfast,--but was scarcely seated, when A waiter, with a look portending gloom,
Approach'd, (ye gods! avert such pests from men!) And whisper'd, " you're of the army, I presume,
“Or navy, sir?" "I'm neither, sir, what then ?" “None else can breakfast here, such my instruction, “Save a subscriber, or by introduction.”
Indignant at such treatment, I exclaim'ů,
“Is this the boasted liberality "Of this great modern Tyre,—this city fam'd
“Once for its trade and hospitality? " Alas ! how few can now be " Merchants" nam'd
“Where is their “Change?" none in reality
Yes, but there is—from Merchants into Factors, “Brokers, Assurance Agents, and Contractors.
"O shade of Gresham!" but the pinching squeeze
Of hunger, check'd apostropbising more ;
I quickly gain'd the “Chamber's” open door,
Fail'd not my sweet good humour to restore. Hunger should ne'er be suffered in a nation, For nothing's so rebellious as starvation.
Sated-down Patrick-Street 1 bent my way,
Call’d at the Post-Office, and got my letters, Which somewhat cool'd the ardour of the day,
Two having come from ruin'd bankrupt debtors, Forebodiug scarcely any thing to pay.
But as much grieving ne'er misfortune betters, These tales of wor, I plung'd into my pockets, Resolving to forget both debts and dockets.
This is a happy philosophic state
Of mind, for any mortal to be bless'à with, But men of business bear these strokes of fate
With pious patience; we're so often press’d with Our fellow-traders' sufferings, that we hate
To appear angry; nay, we often jest with Each other on our losses--nor seem vex'd : Blanks we draw one day—prizes on the next.
That is, provided in trade's lottery wheel,
We several chances have. Tho' now and then A slight misfortune, we percbance may feel,
All is not lost ;-we still have many men Solvent and prosperous debtors, and who deal
With certainty of payment,--and again, When the ship rides by many anchors moor'd, Tho' one give way, she's by the rest secur'da
But frantic he, who in commercial pride,
Or rather desperation, sinks his all
That all to one, unknown what may befall
Of commerce, tho' the risk appear but small, She sometimes founders ;-headlong then she's hurld, Condemn'd, despis'd, and laughed at by the world!
Onward proceeding towards Merchants' Quay,
The bugle's merry sounds salute the ear,
And certainly, 'twere better far to hear
“Music's the food of love." I therefore fear We must beware what dishes we supply, Lest “ surfeiting," he "sicken, and so die.”
“ The roast beef of old England,” is a dish
By Love's young tender palate ne'er enjoy'd; Tho'“ peas-upon a trencher" he may wish,
Hence, hence away, if tasted, he's destroy'd, And “ drops of brandy,” tho' good after fish,
Must nerer in his banquet be employ'd, -Give him “ a heart," he'll carve it with his arrow, And sip 'the streamlet," and the " braes of Yarrow,"
Lo! on the wheel, O'Brien takes his stand,
Courteous alike gentleman and lady, Giring to all around the loud command,
“ Make fast that rope there, let the plank be ready, “llere, Jack, why don't you take that lady's hand ?
“ Don't be afraid ma'am, ev'ry thing is steady," While now and then, exulting in his glory, He sidelong eyes the “Waterloo" and " Story !"
Now throng the hurying passengers aboard,
Old age advancing cautious and secure :
Attention to advice for footing sure.
Cold beef, ham, chicken, porter, wine, liqueur, While, crowding in, come servant-girls, and fellows Laden with baskets, jars, great coats, umbrellas.
'Tis half-past ten, the tide is ebbing fast,
The murmur of delay is buzzing round,
And bids the bugle blow a parting sound,
“ Quick, quick, for God's sake, or we'll take the ground," Thrice shook the plank, as seeming to move in, But thrice a ten-penny steadied it again!.