style="font-size:15px;"> French stuffs, lace, tweezers, toothpicks, teapot, tray, Guitars and castanets from Alicant,All which selected from the spoil he gathers, Robb'd for his daughter by the best of fathers.
A monkey, a Dutch mastiff, a mackaw,
Two parrots, with a Persian cat and kittens, He chose from several animals he saw--
A terrier, too, which once had been a Briton's, Who dying on the coast of Ithaca,
The peasants gave the poor dumb thing a pittance; These to secure in this strong blowing weather,
He caged in one huge hamper altogether.
Then having settled his marine affairs, Despatching single cruisers here and there, His vessel having need of some repairs,
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He shaped his course to where his daughter fair
Continued still her hospitable cares;
But that part of the coast being shoal and bare, And rough with reefs which ran out many a mile, His port lay on the other side o' the isle.
And there he went ashore without delay, Having no custom-house nor quarantine To ask him awkward questions on the way
About the time and place where he had been: He left his ship to be hove down next day, With orders to the people to careen;
So that all hands were busy beyond measure,
In getting out goods, ballast, guns, and treasure.
Arriving at the summit of a hill
Which overlook'd the white walls of his home,
He stopp'd.--What singular emotions fill
Their bosoms who have been induced to roam!
With fluttering doubts if all be well or ill-- With love for many, and with fears for some; All feelings which o'erleap the years long lost,
And bring our hearts back to their starting-post.
The approach of home to husbands and to sires, After long travelling by land or water,
Most naturally some small doubt inspires-- A female family 's a serious matter
(None trusts the sex more, or so much admires--
But they hate flattery, so I never flatter);
Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler, And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.
An honest gentleman at his return
May not have the good fortune of Ulysses;
Not all lone matrons for their husbands mourn, Or show the same dislike to suitors' kisses;
The odds are that he finds a handsome urn
To his memory--and two or three young misses
Born to some friend, who holds his wife and riches,-- And that his Argus--bites him by the breeches.
If single, probably his plighted fair
Has in his absence wedded some rich miser; But all the better, for the happy pair
May quarrel, and the lady growing wiser, He may resume his amatory care
As cavalier servente, or despise her;
And that his sorrow may not be a dumb one, Write odes on the Inconstancy of Woman.
And oh! ye gentlemen who have already Some chaste liaison of the kind--I mean An honest friendship with a married lady-- The only thing of this sort ever seen
To last--of all connections the most steady,
And the true Hymen (the first 's but a screen)--
Yet for all that keep not too long away,
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I 've known the absent wrong'd four times a day.
Lambro, our sea-solicitor, who had
Much less experience of dry land than ocean, On seeing his own chimney-smoke, felt glad; But not knowing metaphysics, had no notion Of the true reason of his not being sad,
Or that of any other strong emotion;
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