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But with the jumping-powder heated,
He got completely—elevated;
So much so he could scarce remember
The huntsman's song, "Fifth of November";
And 'ere they could cry out encore,
He tumbled plump upon the floor;
But as he lay upon the ground,
His health with three times three went round.
Our hero soon regain'd his seat,
And kept it up till it was late.
More jumping-powder, they were sure.
Would certainly effect a cure;
This antidote so soon discovered.
Our hero tried, and got recover'd;
Then join'd them in their songs and laughter.
Nor e'er complain'd of head-ache after.

Homewards the party now proceeds,
Scarce capable to guide their steeds.
But tho' through rocks and topes they went,
None of them met an accident.
How Qui Hai had contriv'd to mount.
He never after could account;
Nor how his saddle he could keep.
For all the time he was asleep.
The horse (quite sober) knew the way,
Without direction, to Bombay;
Nor stopp'd till at th' Apollo gate.
Him and his rider's forc'd to wait;
Soon as the sentry hoarsely spoke,
Qui Hai immediately awoke:
He found his horse had been mistaken.
And an improper road had taken;
He chang'd his course, and soon he found
The way into his own compound;
Where he, as usual, from his gipsy,
A lecture got for being tipsy.