With the return of health and spirits, Horace insisted I should write the "L'Allegro" to this "Il Penseroso" effusion. So, finding the jade had recovered her wonted buoyancy, I prayed her mount on gayest wing, and having spread her pinions to the sun, produced the following impromptu.
THE CONVALESCENT.
Welcome, thou first great gift below,
Hygeian maid, with rosy glow,
Thrice welcome to my call.
Let misers hug their golden store,
I envy none the servile ore;
To me thou art all in all.
Thou spring of life, and herald fair,
Whose charm dispels disease and care,
And yields a summer joy,
All hail! celestial seraph, hail!
Thou art the poet's coat of mail,
His mirth without alloy.
There is a prepossessing something in the life of a sailor which improves the natural attachment of Englishmen to every thing nautical; so much so, that I never heard of one in my life who was not, after a single trip, always fond of relating his hair-breadth perils and escapes, and of seizing every opportunity to display his marine knowledge by framing his conversation ship shape, and decorating his oratory with a few of those lingual localisms, which to a landsman must be almost unintelligible without the aid of a naval glossary. A fortnight's tuition under the able auspices of my friend Horace had brought me into tolerable good trim in this particular; I already knew the difference between fore and aft, a gib, a mainsail, and a mizen;could hand a rope, or let go the foresail upon a tack; and having gained the good opinion of the sailing captain, I was fast acquiring a knowledge how to box the binnacle and steer through the Needle's Eye. But, my conscience! as the Dominie says, I could never learn how to distinguish the different vessels by name, particularly when at a little distance; their build and rigging being to my eye so perfectly similar. In all this, however, my friend Horace was as completely at home as if he had studied naval architecture at the college; the first glance of a vessel was quite enough for him: like an old sportsman with the pedigree of a horse or a dog, only let him see her, through his glass head or stern, or upon a lee lurch, and he would hail her directly, specify her qualities and speed, tell you where she was built, and who by, give you the date of her register, owner's name, tonnage, length and breadth of her decks, although to the eye of the uninitiated there was no distinguishing mark about her, the hull being completely black, and the rigging, to a rope, like every other vessel of the same class. "For instance," said Horace, "who could possibly mistake that beautiful cutter, the Pearl? See how she skims along like a swan with her head up, and stern well under the wind! Then, look at her length; there's a bowsprit, my boy! full half the measurement of her hull; and her new mainsail looks large enough to sweep up every breath of wind between the sea and the horizon. Then only direct your fore lights to her trim; every rope just where it should be, and not a line too much; and when she fills well with a stiff breeze, not a wrinkle in all her canvas from the gib to the gaff topsail. Then observe how she dips in the bows, and what a breadth she has; why she's fit for any seas; and if the Arrow ever shoots past her, I'll forfeit every shot in my lockers." "Avast there! master Horace," said our master at the helm, who was an old Cowes pilot, and as bluff as a Deal sea-boat; "the Pearl is a noble sailer; but a bird can't fly without wings, nor a ship run thirteen knots an hour without a good stiff breeze. If the light winds prevail, the Arrow will have the advantage, particularly now she's cutter rigged, and has got the marquis's old mainsail up to take the wind out of his eye." "Ay, ay," said Horace, "you must tell that story to the marines, old boy; it will never do for the sailors." "Mayhap, your honours running right a-head with the Pearl, and betting your blunt all one way; but, take an old seaman's advice; may I get no more rest than a dog-vane, or want a good grego{1} in a winter's watch, if I don't think you had better keep a good look-out for the wind's changing aft; and be ready to haul in your weather-braces, and bear the back-stays abreast the top-br'im, ere the boatswain's mate pipes the starboard-watch a-hoy." "Tush, tush, old fellow," said Horace, with whom I found Lord Anglesey's cutter stood a one at Lloyd's. "May my mother sell vinegar, and I stay at home to bottle it off, if I would give a farthing per cent, to be ensured for my whole risk upon the grand match! Mind your weather roll, master—belay every inch of that. There now; look out a-head; there's the Liberty giving chase to the Julia, and the Jack-o'lantern weathering the Swallow upon every tack. His Grace of Norfolk won't like that; but a pleasure hack must not be expected to run against a thorough-bred racer. There is but one yawl in the club, and that is the little Eliza, that can sail alongside a cutter; but then Sir George Thomas is a tar for all weathers—a true blue jacket—every thing so snug—cawsand rig—no topmasts—all so square and trim, that nothing of his bulk can
1 A watch-coat.
beat him." In this way my friend Eglantine very soon perfected me in nautical affairs, or, to use his expression, succeeded in putting a "timber head in the ship;" and the first use I made of my newly acquired information was to pen a jeu d'esprit, in the way of a circular in rhyme, inviting the members of the Royal Yacht Club to assemble in Cowes-roads. The whim was handed about in MS., and pleased more from its novelty than merit; but as it contains a correct list of the club at this period, and as the object of the English Spy is to perpetuate the recollections of his own time, I shall here introduce it to the notice of my readers.
A CIRCULAR,
ADDRESSED TO THE MEMBERS OP THE ROYAL YACHT CLUB.
Come, lads, bend your sails; o'er the blue waters thronging, In barks like the sea-mew that skims o'er the lave; All you to the Royal Yacht squadron belonging, Come, muster at Cowes, for true sport on the wave.{1} First our king,{2} Heaven bless him! who's lord of the sea, And delights in the sport of the circling wave, Commands you attend him wherever ye be, Sons of ocean, ye loyal, ye witty, and brave. Here Anglesey,{3} Waterloo's hero, shall greet ye;
1 The club generally assemble in Cowes-roads about the
middle of July to commence their aquatic excursions, which
are continued
until after the Regatta in August.
2 His Majesty is graciously pleased to honour the club by
becoming its patron.
3 The Marquis of Anglesey is a principal promoter of this
truly British sport, and resides with his family at Cowes
Castle during the season. The Pearl cutter, 113 tons, and
the Liberty cutter, 42 tons, are both his property.