There is nothing so dull as mere fact, you’ll admit, While you read my detail, unenlivened by wit. My friends will believe, though they’re told it in rhyme, That I thought to return in a far shorter time. When at once we’re resolv’d, by half past on the move, And by two, but a trio, we reach Mutton Cove; When approaching the quay, such a rabble and rout, That we ask ‘My good friend, what is all this about?’ ‘They are rowing a race, and some boats are come in, While these people are waiting till t’ others begin.’ Well aware of our folly, with risible lip, The boatman we told to make haste to _the_ ship; On the colours of fish,[59] here by hampers-full landing, We gaze for amusement, while still we’re kept standing; At length to the Admiral’s stairs we have got, See his party on board, and hear tunes from his yacht. The day is delightful, the gale just enough For the sea to look lively without being rough. With those first at the ship, our sight costs the dearer, As we’ve longer to wait, and not, in the end, nearer; For by land, and by water, so different the case is, ’Twas long before we were jam’d into our places; But on further advice we’ll at present be dumb, For half the spectators you know, are now come: In one boat, a bevy, all sarcenet and veil, In the next some good fellows while toping their ale. ‘Avast! here’s the guard boat.’ ‘Aye here it comes smack.’ And the ladies cry ‘Captain they’ll drive us all back.’ Then some bully our men, with ‘Skull out there, skull out,’ And others check these with ‘Mind what you’re about.’ Here’s a crazy old boat, laded dry by a shoe, There, a gay painted barge is forced on our view; In this, while Don Solus is jeered by the mob, ‘See that empty boat, turn it out.’ ‘Here’s a fine job.’ Cries one, of some dozens squeezed into the next, ‘I’ve left the pork pie, Oh dear I’m so vex’d.’ In the long boat, that shews us profusion of oar, From the Captain bursts forth, a most terrible roar At his men, but the anger about who, or what, Though they still remember, we soon had forgot. Here infants were crying, mothers scolding downright, While the next party laughs at some comical sight. Now watches and spy-glasses make their appearance, And Impatience, that vixen, begins interference; To beguile her, through portholes we eagerly stare, For the nobles on deck are all taking the air. ‘Hey dey what a bustle!’ then ‘All safe, all safe.’ The crowd is return’d to its chatter and laugh. ‘Pray what was the matter?’ ‘From that boat, near the ship, A woman fell over, and so got a dip.’ But a hum of applause, yes, his triumph is full, Yet this hum of applause has betrayed our John Bull, ‘What hum of applause? come I prithee be brief:’ Why John was delighted to see them _ship beef_. With a smile ’tis observed by the Briton polite, How the glee of the crowd was improv’d, by the sight,