[H] Commanders of Philadelphia and New-York packets.--_Ib._ [I] Indian Queen.--_Freneau's note, 1788 edition._ IX. _The Passage to_ BURLINGTON The morning was fair, and the wind was at west, The flood coming in, and the ladies were drest; At the sign of the Billet we all were to meet, And Snip was the first that appear'd in the street; He strutted along with a mighty brisk air, While Sam and Snipinda walked slow in the rear. Dress'd, booted, and button'd, and "cutting a shine" The captain came next, with his loaded carbine; Then handed on board the milliner's maid: The barber and ballad-man longer delay'd For one had his ballads to sing and to play, And the other some beards to take off by the way: At last they arriv'd, and the sailor along, (But he was besotted--his dram had been strong--) The lawyer, Ezekiel, was last to appear, With a cane in his hand and a quill at his ear. But, just as we all were prepar'd to embark, The wind came a-head, and the weather look'd dark: So, whilst they were busy in hoisting the sails And trimming close aft' to encounter the gales, Our seaman advis'd them to take in a reef As the vessel was light--but the skipper was deaf: "His boat was his own"--and he knew to a hair The "worth of her freight," and the "sail she could bear." Then a storm coming on, we stow'd away snug, Some link'd with a lady, and some with a jug: Snipinda and Sam were inclining to sleep, And the lawyer harangu'd on the risques of the deep. O'Bluster was busy in looking for squalls, And Cynthia discours'd upon dances and balls, And while the poor ballad-man gave us a song The Frenchman complain'd that his stomach felt wrong. Arriving, at length at the end of this stage, We quitted our cabbin (or rather our cage) To the sign of the Anchor we then were directed, Where captain O'Keef a fine turkey dissected; And Bryan O'Bluster made love to egg-nog, And pester'd the ladies to taste of his grog: Without it (said Bryan) I never can dine, 'Tis better, by far, than your balderdash wine, It braces the nerves and it strengthens the brain, A world--and no grog--is a prison of pain, And Man, the most wretched of all that are found To creep in the dust, or to move on the ground! It is, of all physic, the best I have seen To keep out the cold, and to cut up the spleen-- Here, madam--miss Cynthia--'tis good--you'll confess-- Now taste--and you'll wish you had been in my mess-- With grog I'm as great as a king on his throne; The worst of all countries is--where there is none, New Holland, New Zealand--those islands accurs'd-- Here's health to the man that invented it first. X. VEXATIONS _and_ DISASTERS