Fierce were his looks and moody was his mind. For home the Sailor now began to sigh:-- "The dogs are dead, and I'll return and die; When all I have, my gains, in years of care, The younger Cuffs with kinder souls shall share.-- Yet hold! I'm rich;--with one consent they'll say, 'You're welcome, Uncle, as the flowers in May.' No; I'll disguise me, be in tatters dress'd, And best befriend the lads who treat me best." 750 Now all his kindred,--neither rich nor poor-- Kept the wolf want some distance from the door. In piteous plight he knock'd at George's gate, And begg'd for aid, as he described his state;-- But stern was George:--"Let them who had thee strong, Help thee to drag thy weaken'd frame along; To us a stranger, while your limbs would move, From us depart and try a stranger's love:-- Ha! dost thou murmur?"--for, in Roger's throat, Was "Rascal!" rising with disdainful note. 760 To pious James he then his prayer address'd;-- "Good lack," quoth James, "thy sorrows pierce my breast; And, had I wealth, as have my brethren twain, One board should feed us and one roof contain. But plead I will thy cause and I will pray; And so farewell! Heaven help thee on thy way!" "Scoundrel!" said Roger, (but apart;)--and told His case to Peter;--Peter too was cold;-- "The rates are high; we have a-many poor; But I will think,"--he said, and shut the door. 770 Then the gay Niece the seeming pauper press'd:-- "Turn, Nancy, turn, and view this form distress'd; Akin to thine is this declining frame, And this poor beggar claims an Uncle's name." "Avaunt! begone!" the courteous maiden said, "Thou vile impostor! Uncle Roger's dead: I hate thee, beast; thy look my spirit shocks! Oh! that I saw thee starving in the stocks!" "My gentle niece!" he said--and sought the wood.-- "I hunger, fellow; prithee, give me food!" 780 "Give! am I rich? This hatchet take, and try Thy proper strength, nor give those limbs the lie; Work, feed thyself, to thine own powers appeal, Nor whine out woes, thine own right-hand can heal: And while that hand is thine and thine a leg, Scorn of the proud or of the base to beg." "Come, surly John, thy wealthy kinsman view," Old Roger said:--"thy words are brave and true; Come, live with me: we'll vex those scoundrel-boys, And that prim shrew shall, envying, hear our joys.-- 790 Tobacco's glorious fume all day we'll share, With beef and brandy kill all kinds of care; We'll beer and biscuit on our table heap, And rail at rascals, till we fall asleep." Such was their life; but when the woodman died, His grieving kin for Roger's smiles applied-- In vain; he shut, with stern rebuke, the door, And dying, built a refuge for the poor: With this restriction, That no Cuff should share