This new arrangement made, the Wain Through the still night proceeds again; No Moon hath risen her light to lend; But indistinctly may be kenned 510 The VANGUARD, following close behind, Sails spread, as if to catch the wind! "Thy wife and child are snug and warm, Thy ship will travel without harm; I like," said Benjamin, "her shape and stature: 515 And this of mine--this bulky creature Of which I have the steering--this, Seen fairly, is not much amiss! We want your streamers, friend, you know; But, altogether [48] as we go, 520 We make a kind of handsome show! Among these hills, from first to last, We've weathered many a furious blast; Hard passage forcing on, with head Against the storm, and canvass spread. 525 I hate a boaster; but to thee Will say't, who know'st both land and sea, The unluckiest hulk that stems [49] the brine Is hardly worse beset than mine, When cross-winds on her quarter beat; 530 And, fairly lifted from my feet, I stagger onward--heaven knows how; But not so pleasantly as now: Poor pilot I, by snows confounded, And many a foundrous pit surrounded! 535 Yet here we are, by night and day Grinding through rough and smooth our way; Through foul and fair our task fulfilling; And long shall be so yet--God willing!" "Ay," said the Tar, "through fair and foul--540 But save us from yon screeching owl!" That instant was begun a fray Which called their thoughts another way: The mastiff, ill-conditioned carl! What must he do but growl and snarl, 545 Still more and more dissatisfied With the meek comrade at his side! Till, not incensed though put to proof, The Ass, uplifting a hind hoof, Salutes the Mastiff on the head; 550 And so were better manners bred, And all was calmed and quieted. "Yon screech-owl," says the Sailor, turning Back to his former cause of mourning, "Yon owl!--pray God that all be well! 555 'Tis worse than any funeral bell; As sure as I've the gift of sight, We shall be meeting ghosts to-night!" --Said Benjamin, "This whip shall lay A thousand, if they cross our way. 560 I know that Wanton's noisy station, I know him and his occupation; The jolly bird hath learned his cheer Upon [50] the banks of Windermere; Where a tribe of them make merry, 565 Mocking the Man that keeps the ferry; Hallooing from an open throat, Like travellers shouting for a boat. --The tricks he learned at Windermere This vagrant owl is playing here--570 That is the worst of his employment: He's at the top [51] of his enjoyment!"