Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 /p^c /f^%
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON.
 
 *li
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON; 
 
 IN FIVE PARTS, 
 
 THE IMPRISONMENT, THE RETROSPECT, PUBLIC 
 PUNISHMENT, THE TRIAL, FUTURITY- 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM DODD, L. L. D. 
 
 TO WHICH ARE ADDED, HIS LAST PRAYER, WRITTEN IN THE 
 NIGHT BEFORE HIS DEATH; 
 
 THE CONVICT'S ADDRESS TO HIS UNHAPPY BRETHREN; 
 
 AMD 
 
 OTHER MISCELLANEOUS PIECES : 
 WITH SOME ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 " These evils I deserve, and more ; 
 " Acknowledge them from God inflicted on me 
 " JnsUy ; yet despair not of his final pardon, 
 " Whose ear is ever open, and his eye, 
 " Gracious to re-admit the Suppliant." Milton. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 pr'ntbd for J. mawman; longman, hubst, rees, orme, and 
 
 BROWN ; BALDWIN, CBADOCK, AND JOY ; SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND 
 JONES ; OAIE, CURTIS, AND FENNEB ; AND J. WALKER AND CO. J 
 
 By T. Miller, 5, Nobte-ttreet, Cheapside. 
 1815.
 
 1BI5- 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The Work now oflFered to the Public, was the last 
 performance of one who often afforded amusement 
 and instruction ; who possessed the talents of pleas- 
 ing in a high degree ; whose labours were devoted 
 to advance the interest of Religion and Morality ; 
 and who, during the greater part of his life, was 
 esteemed, beloved and respected by all to whom he 
 was known. Unhappily for himself and his con- 
 nections, the dictates of prudence were unattended 
 to amidst the fashionable dissipation of the times. 
 With many advantages, both natural and acquired, 
 and with the most flattering prospects before him, 
 he, by an act of folly, to give it no worse a name, 
 plunged himself from a situation, in which he had 
 every happiness to expect, into a state, which, to con- 
 template, must fill the mind with astonishment and 
 horror. It was in some of the most dreadful mo- 
 ments of his life, when the exercise of every faculty 
 might be presumed to be suspended, that the pre- 
 sent work was composed : a work which will be
 
 ir ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 ever read with wonder, as exhibiting an extraordi- 
 nary exertion of the mental powers in very unpropi- 
 trous cireiunstances, and affording, at the same time, 
 a lesson worthy the most attentive consideration, of 
 every one into whose hands it may chance to fall. 
 As the curiosity of the world will naturally follow 
 the person whose solitude and confinement produced 
 the instruction to be derived from this performance, 
 a short Account of the Author is added. To enlarge 
 on the merit of this Poem will be unnecessary. The 
 feelings of every reader will estimate and propor- 
 tionate its value. That it contains an awful admoni- 
 tion to the gay and dissipated, will be readily ac- 
 knowledged by every reflecting mind, especially when 
 it is considered as the bitter fruit of those fashion- 
 able indulgencies which brought disgrace and death 
 upon its unhappy author, in spite of learning and 
 genius, accomplishments the most captivating, and 
 services the most important to mankind.
 
 ACCOUNT 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 William Dodd was the eldest son* of a clergyman of the 
 same name, who held the vicarage of Bomne, in the county of 
 lincohi, where he died the 8th day of August 1756, at the age 
 f 54 years. His wife departed this life on the 21st of the pre- 
 ceding May. Their son was bom at Bourne on the 29th day of 
 May 1729, and, after finishing his school education, was admitted 
 a Sizar of Clare-Hall, Cambridge, in the year 1745, under the 
 tuition of Mr. John Courtail, siiKe Archdeacon of Lewis. At 
 the university he acquired the notice of his superiors by a close 
 application to his studies; and in the year 1749-50, took his first 
 degree of Bachelor of Arts with considerable reputation, his name 
 being in the list of wranglers on that occasron. It was not, how- 
 ever, oiJy in his academical pursuits that he was emulous of disr 
 tinction. Having a pleasing form, a genteel address, and a lively 
 imagination, he was equally celebrated for accomplishments which 
 seldom accompcmy a life of learned retirement. In particular, 
 he was fond of the elegancies of dress, and became, as he lu- 
 dicrously expressed it, a zealous votary of the God of Dancing, 
 to whose service he dedicated much of that time and attention 
 which he could borrow from his more important avocations 
 
 * He speaks of himself as descended irom Sir Thomas 
 Overbury.
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 The talents which he possessed he very early displayed to 
 the public ; and by the tune he had attained the age of eighteen 
 years, prompted by the desire of fame, and perhaps to increase 
 his income, commenced author ; in which character he began to 
 obtain some degree of reputation. At this period of his life, 
 young, thouglitiess, volatile, and unexperienced, he precipitately 
 quitted the miiversity, and relying entirely on hb pen, removed 
 to the metropoUs, where he entered largely into the gaities of 
 the town, -was a constant frequenter of all places of public diver- 
 sion, and followed every species of amusement with the most 
 dangerous avidity. In this course, however, he did not continue 
 long. To the surprise of his friends, who least suspected him of 
 taking such a step, without fortune, with few friends, and desti- 
 tute of ail means of supporting a family, he hastily united him- 
 self, on the 15th of April 1751, in marriage with Miss Mary 
 Perkuis, dau^ter of one of the domestics of Sir John Dolben, a 
 young lady then residing in Frith-street, Soho, who, though, 
 largely endowed with personal attractions, was certainly defici- 
 ent in those of birth and fortune. To a person circumstanced as 
 Mr. Dodd then was, no measure could be more imprudent, or 
 apparently more ruinous and destructive of his future prospects 
 in life. He did not, however, seem to view it in that light, but, 
 with a degree of thoughtlessness natural to him, immediately 
 took and furnished a house in Wardour-street. Thus dancing 
 on the brink of a precipice, and careless of to-morrow, his friends 
 began to be alarmed at his situation. His father came to town 
 in great distress upon the occasion; and by parei^l injunction 
 he quitted his house before winter. By the sanie advice he pro- 
 bably was induced to adopt a new plan for his future subsistence. 
 On the 19th of October, in that year, he was ordained a Deacon 
 by the Bishop of Ely, at Caius College, Cambridge ; and with 
 more prudence than he had ever shown before, devoted himself, 
 with great assiduity, to the study and duties of his profession. 
 In these pursuits he appeared so sincere, that he even renounced 
 all attention to his favourite objects. Polite Letters. At the end 
 of his Preface to the Beauties of' Shahspeare, published in this 
 year, he says, " For my own part, better and more important 
 " things henceforth demand ray attention, and I here with no 
 " small pleasure take leave of Shakspeare and the Critics. As 
 " this work was begun and finished before I entered upon the 
 " sacred function, in which 1 am now happily employed, let me 
 " trust this juvenile performance will prove no objection, since
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 * graver, and some very eminent members of tlie church, have 
 " thought it 1)0 improper employ to comment, explain, and pub- 
 " lish the works of tlieir own country poets." 
 
 The first service in which lie was engaged as a clergyman;, 
 was to assist tlie Reverend Mr. Wyatt, vicar of West Ham, as 
 liis curate : thither he removed, and there lie spent the happiest 
 and more honourable moments of liis life. His behaviour was 
 proper, decent, and exemplary. It acquired him the respect, 
 ond secured him the favour of his parishioners so far, that, on 
 the death of their lecturer in 17,52, he was chosen to succeed 
 him. His abilities had at this time every opportunity of being 
 shown to advantage ; and his exertions were so projjerly di- 
 rected, tliat he soon became a favourite and ]X)pular preacher. 
 Those who remember him at this period, will bear testimony 
 to the indefatigable zeal which he exerted in his ministry, 
 and the success which crowned his efforts. The follies of 
 his youth seemed entirely extinguished, his friends viewed 
 his conduct with the utmost satisfaction, and the world pro- 
 mised itself an example to hold out for the imitation of his 
 brethren. 
 
 At this early season of his life he entertained favourable 
 sentiments of the doctrine of Mr. Hutchinson ; and was sus- 
 pected to incline towards the opinions of the Methodists. A 
 more mature age, however, induced him to renounce the one, 
 and to disclaim the other. In 1752 he was appointed Lecturer 
 of St. James, Garlick-hill, which two years afterwards he ex- 
 changed for the same post at St. Olave, Hart-street. About the 
 same time he was appointed to preach Lady Moyer's Lectures 
 at St. Paul's ; where, from Tlie Visit of the Three Angels to 
 Alrraham, and other similar passages from the Old Testament, 
 he endeavoured to prove the commonly received doctrine of 
 the- Trinity. On the establishment of the Magdalen House, 
 1758, he was amongst the first and most active promoters 
 of that charitable institution, which received great advan- 
 tage from his zeal for its prosperity, and, even to the con- 
 clusion of his life, continued to be materially benefited by his 
 labours. 
 
 From the time Mr. Dodd entered into the service of the 
 Church, he resided at West Ham, and. made up the deficiencies 
 of his income by superintending the education of some young 
 gentlemen who were placed under his care. In 1759 he took 
 his degree of Master of Arts. In the year 1763,. he was ap- 
 
 a 5
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 pointed Chaplabi in Ordinary to the King, and about the same 
 time became known to Dr. Squire, Bishop of St. David's, wlio 
 received him into his patronage, presented him to the prebend 
 of Brecon, and recommended him to the Earl of Chesterfield, as 
 a proper person to be intrusted with the tuition of his successcHT 
 in the title. The next year saw him Chaplain to his Majesty. 
 In 1766 he took the degree of Doctor of Laws at Cambridge. 
 He had some expectations of succeeding to the Rectory of West 
 Harn ; but having been twice disappointed, he resigned his 
 lectureships both there and in the city, and quitted the place : 
 " A place (says he to Lord Chesterfield) ever dear and ever 
 " regretted by me, the loss of which, truly affecting to my mind 
 " (for there I was useful, and there I trust I was loved), nothing 
 " but your Lordship's friendship and connection should have 
 " counterbalanced*." From a passage in his Thoughts in 
 Prison, it may be inferred that he was compelled to quit this 
 his favourite residence; a circumstance which he pathetically 
 laments, and probably with great reason, as the first step to tliat 
 change in his situation, which led him insensibly to his last fatal 
 catastrophe. 
 
 On his leaving West Ham he removed to a house in South- 
 ampton-row, and at the same time launched out into scenes of 
 expence, which his income, by this time not a small one, was 
 unequal to support. He provided himself with a country house 
 at Ealing, and exchanged his chariot for a coach, in order to 
 accommodate hb pupils, who, besides his noble charge, were in 
 general persons of family and fortune. About the same time it 
 was his misfortime to obtain a prize of lOOOl. in the state- 
 lottery. Elated with this success, he engaged with a builder in 
 a plan to erect a chapel near the palace of the Queen, from 
 whom it took its name. He entered also into a like partnership 
 at Charlotte Chapel, Bloomsbury ; and both these schemes were 
 for some time very beneficial to liim, though much inferior to 
 his then expensive habits of living. His expectations from the 
 former of these undertakings were extremely sanguine. It is 
 
 * See Dedication to a Sermon, entitled " Popery inconsist- 
 ent with the Natural Rights of Men m general, and Englishmen 
 in partioilar.
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 reported, that in fitting up the chapel near the palace, he flat- 
 tered himself with the hopes of having some yomig royal 
 auditors ; and in that expectation assigned a particular j)ew or 
 gallery for the heir apparent. But in this, as in many other of 
 his views, he was disappointed. 
 
 In the year 1772 he obtained the rectory of HocklifFe, in 
 Bedfordshire, the first cure of souls he ever had. With this 
 also he held the vicarage of Chalgrove ; and the two were soon 
 after consolidated. An accident happened about this time, 
 from which he narrowly escajjed with his life. Returning from 
 his living, he was stopped near Pancras by a highwayman, who 
 discharged a pistol into the carriage, which happily, as it was 
 then thought, only broke the glass. For tliis fact the delin- 
 quent was tried, and on Dr. Dodd's evidence convicted, and 
 hanged. Early in the next year Lord Chesterfield died, and 
 was succeeded by our author's pupil, who appointed his pre- 
 ceptor liis chaplain. 
 
 At this period Dr. Dodd appears to have been in the zenith 
 of his popularity and reputation. Beloved and respected by 
 all orders of people, he would have reached, in all probability, 
 the situation which was the object of his wishes, had he {ws- 
 sessed patience enough to have waited for it, and prudence 
 sufficient to keep himself out of difficulties which might prove 
 fatal to his integrity. But the habits of dissipation and expence 
 had acquired too much influence over him. He had by their 
 means involved himself in considerable debts. To extricate 
 himself from them he was tempted to an act which entirely cut 
 ofiF every hope which he could entertain of rising in his profes- 
 sion, and totally ruined him in the opinion of the world. On 
 the ti-anslation of Bishop Moss, in Feb. 1774, to the see of Bath 
 and Wells, the valuable rectory of St. George, Hanover-square, 
 fell to the disposal of the Crown, by virtue of the King's pre- 
 rogative. Whether from the suggestion of his own mind, or 
 firom the persuasion of some friend, is uncertain; but on this 
 occasion he took a step, of all others the most wild and extrava- 
 gant, and least likely to be attended with success. He caused 
 an anonymous letter to be sent to Lady Apsley, offering the 
 sum of 30001. if by her means he could be presented to the 
 living. Tlie letter was immediately commimicated to the Chan- 
 cellor, and, after being traced to the sender, was laid before his 
 Majesty. The insult offered to so high an officer by the pro- 
 jKJsal, was followed by instant punislunent. Dr. Dodd's name
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 was ordered to be struck out of the list of chaplains. The press 
 teemed with satire and invective ; he was abused and ridiculed 
 in the papers of the day ; and, to crown the whole, the transac- 
 tion became a subject of entertainment in one of Mr. Foote's 
 pieces at the Hay-market. 
 
 As no explanation could justify so absurd a measure, so no 
 apology could palliate it. An evasive letter in the newspapers, 
 promising a justification at a future day, was treated with uni- 
 versal contempt. Stung with remorse, and feelingly alive to 
 the disgrace he had brought on himself^ he hastily quitted 
 the place where neglect and insult attended him, and went to 
 Geneva to his pupil, who presented him to the living of Winge 
 in Buckinghamshire, which he held with Hockliffe by virtue of 
 a dispensation. Though encumbered with debts, he might still 
 have retrieved his circumstances, if not his character, had he 
 attended to the lessons of prudence ; but his extravagance con- 
 tinued undiminished, and drove him to schemes which over- 
 whelmed him with additional infamy. He descended so low as 
 to become the editor of a newspaper ; and is said to have at- 
 tempted to disengage himself from his debts by a commission of 
 bankruptcy, in which he failed. From this period every step 
 led to complete his ruin. In the summer of 1776 he went to 
 Paris, and, with little regard to decency, pju-aded it in a phaeton 
 at the races on the plains of Sablons, dressed in all the foppery 
 of the kingdom in which he then resided. He returned to Eng- 
 land about the beginning of vi^nter, and continued to exercise 
 the duties of his function, particularly at the Magdalen Chapel, 
 where he still was heard with approbation, and where his last 
 sermon was preached, February 2, 1777, two days only before 
 he signed the fatal instrument which brought him to an ignomi- 
 nious end. 
 
 Pressed at length by creditors, whose importunities he was 
 unable longer to sooth, he fell upon an expedient, from the con- 
 
 ; sequences of which he could not escape. He forged a bond, 
 Irom his pupil Lord Chesterfield, for the sum of 4,2001. and 
 upon the credit of it obtained a considerable sum of money. 
 Detection of the fraud almost immediately followed. He was 
 taken before a magistrate, and committed to prison. At the 
 sessions held at the Old Bailey, February 24, his trial com- 
 menced ; and the commission of the offence being clearly 
 proved, he was pronounced guilty ; but the sentence was post- 
 
 ; poned until the sentiments of the judges could be taken respect-
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 iog the admissibility of an evidence, whose testimony had been 
 made use of to convict him. 
 
 'iliis accident suspended his fate until the ensuing session. 
 In tlie mean time, the doubt v/hich had been suggested as to the 
 validity of the evidence, was removed, by the unanimous opi- 
 nion of the judges, that the testimony of the person objected to 
 had been properly and legally received. Thb information was 
 communicated to the criminal on the 12th of May ; and on the 
 SJdth of the same month he was brought to the oar to receive 
 his sentence. Being asked what he had to allege why it 
 should not be pronounced upon him, he addressed the couri iu 
 the following animated and pathetic speech : in the composition 
 of v^rhich he is said to have been materially assbted by a very 
 eminent writer. 
 
 " My Lord, 
 
 " I now stand before you a dreadful example of human 
 infirmity. I entered upon public life with the expectations 
 common to young men whose education has been liberal, and 
 whose abilities have been flattered ; and, when I became a cler- 
 gyman, considered myself as not impairing the dignity of the 
 order. I was not an idle, nor I hope an useless mimster. I \ 
 taught the truths of Christianity with the zeal of conviction and \ 
 the authority of innocence. My labours were approved, my ? 
 pulpit became popular ; and I have reason to believe, that of | 
 those who heard me, some have been preserved from sin, and I 
 some have been reclaimed. Condescend, my Lord, to think, if * 
 these considerations aggravate my crime, how much they must | 
 embitter my punbhment ! 
 
 " Being distinguished and elated by the confidence of man- 
 kind, I had too much confidence in myself; and thinking my 
 integrity what others thought it, established in sincerity, and 
 fortified by religion, I did not consider the danger of vanity, nor 
 suspect the deceitfulness of my own heart. The day of conflict 
 came, in which temptation smprised and overwhelmed me. 1 
 committed the crime, which I entreat your Lordship to believe 
 that my conscience hourly represents to me in its fiiU bulk of 
 mischief and malignity. Many have been overpowered by 
 temptationi who are now among the penitent in heaven. 
 
 " To an act now waiting the decision of vindicative justice, 
 I will not presume to oppose the counterbalance of almost thirty
 
 ACCOUNT OF TIIE AUTHOR. 
 
 years (a great part of the life of man) passed in exciting and 
 exercising charity ; in relieving such distresses as I now feel, in 
 administering those consolations which I now want. I will not 
 otherwise extenuate my offence, than by declaring, what many 
 circumstances make probable, that I did not intend to be fmally 
 fraudulent. Nor will it become me to apportion my punishment, 
 by alleging that my sufferings have been not much less than my 
 guilt. I have fallen from reputation, which ought to have made 
 me cautious ; and fix)m a fortune, \vhich ought to have given me 
 content : I am sunk at once into poverty and scorn ; my name 
 and my crime fill the ballads in the street, the sport of the 
 thoughtless, and the triumph of the wicked. 
 
 " It may seem strange, remembering what I have lately 
 been, that I should still wish to continue what I am : but con- 
 tempt of death, how speciously soever it might mingle with 
 Heathen virtues, has nothing suitable to Christian penitence. 
 Many motives impel me to beg earnestly for life. 1 feel the 
 natural horror of a violent death, and the universal dread of un- 
 timely dissolution. I am desirous of recompensing the injury I 
 have done to the clergy, to the world, and to religion, and to ef- 
 face the scandal of my crime by the example of my repentance. 
 But, above all, I wish to die with thoughts more composed, and 
 calmer preparation. The gloom of a prison, the anxiety of a 
 trial, and the inevitable vicissitudes of passion, leave the mind 
 little disposed to the holy exercises of prayer and self-exami- 
 nation. Let not a little time be denied me, in which I may, by 
 meditation and contrition, be prepared to stand at the tribunal 
 of Omnipotence, and support the presence of that Judge who 
 shall distribute to all according to their works ; who will receive 
 to pardon the repenting sinner, and from whom the merciful 
 shall obtain mercy. 
 
 " For these reasons, amidst shame and misery, I yet wish 
 to live ; and most humbly entreat, that I may be recommended 
 by your Lordship to the clemency of his Majesty." 
 
 From this time the friends of Dr. Dodd were assiduously 
 employed in endeavouring to save his life. Besides the petitions 
 of many individuals, the members of the several charities which 
 had been benefited by him, joined in applications to the Throne 
 for mercy ; the City of London likewise, in its corporate capacity, 
 solicited a remission of tlie punishment, in consideration of the 
 advantages which tlie public had derived from his various and
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 laudable exertions. The petitions were supposed to be signed 
 by near thirty thousand persons. They were, however, of no 
 avail. On the 15th of June the Privy Council assembled, and 
 deliberated on the case of the several prisoners then under con- 
 demnation ; and in the end a warrant was ordered to be made 
 out for the execution of Dr. Dodd, with two others (one of whom 
 w as afterwards reprieved), on the 27th of the same month. 
 
 Having been flattered with hopes of a pardon, he appeared 
 to be much shocked at the intimation of his approaching destiny ; 
 but resumed in a short time a degree of fortitude, sufficient to 
 enable him to pass through the last scene of hb life with firm- 
 ness and decency. On the 26th he took leave of liis wife and 
 some friends, after which he declared himself ready to atone for 
 the offence he had given to the world. His deportment was 
 meek, humble, and devout, expressive of resignation and con- 
 trition, and calculated to inspire sentiments of respect for his 
 person, and concern for his imhappy fate. 
 
 Of his behaviour at this awful juncture, a particular account 
 was given by Mr. Villette, Ordmary of Newgate, in the follow- 
 ing terms : 
 
 " On the morning of his death I went to him, with the Rev. 
 Mr. Dobe.y, Chaplain of the Magdalen, whom he had desired to 
 attend him to the place of execution. He appeared composed ; 
 and when I asked him how he had been supported, he said he 
 had had some comfortable sleep, by which he should be the 
 better enabled to perform his duty. 
 
 " As we went from his room, in our way to the chapel, we 
 were joined by his friend, who had spent the foregoing evening 
 with him, and also by another clergjman. When we were in the 
 vestry adjoining the chapel, he exhorted his fellow-sufferer, who 
 had attempted to destroy himself, but had been prevented by 
 the vigilance of the keeper. He sp>oke to him with great tender- 
 ness and emotion of heart, enti'eating him to consider that he had 
 but a short time to live, and that it was highly necessary that 
 he, as well as himself, made good use of their time, implored 
 pardon of God under a deep sense of sin, and looked to tliat 
 Lord by whose mercy alone sinners could be saved. He desired 
 me to call m the other gentleman, who Ukewise assisted him to 
 move the heart of the poor youth : but the Doctor's words were 
 the most pathetic and effectual. He lifted up his hands, and 
 cried out, ' Lord Jesus, have mercy on us, and give, give
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 unto him, my fellow-sumer, that as we suffer together, we maj 
 go together to Heaven!' His conversation to this poor youth 
 vras so moving, that tears flowed from the eyes of all present 
 
 " When we went into the chapel to prayer and the holy 
 communion, true contrition and warmth of devotion appeared 
 evident in him throughout the whole ser\'ice. After it *vas 
 ended, he again addressed himself to Harris in the most moving 
 and persuasive manner, and not without effect : for he declared 
 that he was gladi he had not made away with himself, and said 
 he was easier, and hoped he should now go to heaveu. The 
 Doctor told him how Christ had suffered for them ; and that 
 he himself was a greater sinner than he, as he had sinned more 
 against light and conviction, and therefore his guilt was greater ; 
 and that, as he was confident that mercy was shown to his soul, 
 so he should look to Christ, and trust in his merits. 
 
 " He prayed God to bless his friends who were present with 
 him, and to give his blessing to all his brethren the clergy ; that 
 he would pour out his Spirit upon them, and make them true 
 ministers of Jesus Christ, and that they might follow the divine 
 precepts of their heavenly Master. Turning to one who stood 
 near him, he stretched out his hand, and said, ' Now, my deai" 
 friend, s{>eculation is at an end ; all must be real ! what poor, ig- 
 norant beings we are ! ' He prayed for the Magdalens, and wished 
 they were there, to sing for him the 23d psalm. 
 
 " After he had waited some time for the officers, he asked 
 what o'clock it was ; and being told that it was half an hour after 
 eight, he said, ' I wbh they were read}", for I long to be gone.' 
 He requested of his friends, who were in tears about him, to 
 pray for him: to which he was answered by two of them, 
 * We pray more than language can utter.' He replied, ' I be- 
 lieve it.' 
 
 " At length he was summoned to go down into a part of the 
 yard which is inclosed from the rest of the jail, where the two 
 unhappy convicts and the friends of the Doctor were alone. On 
 his seeuig two prisoners looking out of the windows, he went to 
 them, and exhorted them so pathetically, that they both wept 
 abundantly. He said once, ' I am now a spectacle to men, and 
 shall soon be a spectacle to angels.* 
 
 \ " Just before the sheriff's officers came with the halters, one 
 {who was walking with him told him that there was yet a lillic 
 jsolcmnity he must pass through before he went out. He asked, 
 I' What is that?' ' You will be bound.' He looked up, and
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 said, ' Yet I am free ; my freedom is there,' pointing upwards. 
 He bore it with Christian patience, and beyond what might have 
 been expected ; and when the men offered to excuse tying his 
 liaiids, he desired them to do their duty, and thanked them for 
 their kindness *. After he was bound, 1 offered to assist iiim 
 with my arm in conducting him through the yard, where several 
 people were assembled to see him ; but he replied with seeming 
 pleasure, ' No ! I am as firm as a rock.' As he passed along the 
 yard, the spectators and prisoners wept and bemoaned him ; and 
 he in return, p-ayed God to bless them. 
 
 " On the way to execution he consoled himself in reflecting 
 and speaking on what Christ had suffered for him ; lamenting 
 the depravity of human nature, wliich made sanguinary laws ne- 
 cessary ; and said he could gladly have died in the prison yard, 
 as being led out to public execution tended greatly to distress 
 him. He desired me to read to him the 51st psalm, and also 
 pointed out an admirable penitential prayer from Rossell's Pri- 
 soner's Director. He prayed again for the king, and likewise 
 for tlie people. 
 
 " When he came near the street where he formerly dwelt, 
 he was much affected, and wept. He said, probably his tears 
 would seem to be the effect of cowardice, but it was a weakness 
 he could not well help ; and added, he hoped he was going to a 
 better home. 
 
 " 'When he arrived at the gallows, he ascended the cart, and j 
 spoke to his fellow-sufferer. He then prayed, not only for him- i; 
 self, but also for his wife, and the unfortunate youth that suffered '. 
 with him ; and declared that he died in the true faith of the 3 
 gospel of Christ, in perfect love and charity with all mankind, ; 
 and with tliankfulness to his friends, he was launched into eter 
 nity, imploring mercy for his soul for the sake of the blessed 
 Redeemer," 
 
 His corpse, on the Monday following, was carried to 
 Cowley, in Buckinghamshire, and deposited in the church 
 there." 
 
 * It was done in the passage leading to the chapel, by order 
 of Mr. Akerman, the keeper, to prevent his being gazed at; 
 to whom he desired I would return his sincere thanks for all 
 civijiiies to him, even to the last.
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 The following paper was intended to have been read by 
 Mr. Villette at the place of execution t but was omitted, as 
 it seemed not possible to communicate the knowledge of 
 it to so great a number qf persons as were then as- 
 semlled. 
 
 " To the words of dying men regard has always been paid. 
 I am brought hither to suffer death for an act of fraud, of which 
 I confess myself guilty, with shame, such as my former state of 
 life naturally produces, and I hope with such soitow as He, to 
 whom the heart is known, will not disregard. I repent that I 
 have violated the laws by which peace and confidence are esta- 
 blished among men ; I repent that I have attempted to injure 
 my fellow-creatures ; and I repent that I have brought disgrace 
 upon my order and discredit upon my religion : but my offences 
 against God are without name or number, and can admit only of 
 general confession and general repentance. Grant, Almighty 
 God, for the sake of Jesus Christ, that my repentance, however 
 late, however imperfect, may not be in vain ! 
 
 " The little good that now remains in my power, is to warn 
 others against those temptations by which I have been seduced. 
 I have always sinned against conviction; my principles have 
 never been shaken ; I have always considered the Christian re-^ 
 ligion as a revelation from God, and its divine Author as the 
 Saviour of the world : but the laws of God, though never dis- 
 owned by me have often been forgotten. I was led astray 
 firom religious strictness by the delusion of show and the de- 
 lights of voluptuousness. I never knew or attended to the calls 
 of frugality, or the needful minuteness of painful economy. Va- 
 nity and pleasure, into which I plunged, required expence dis- 
 proportionate to my income; expence brought distress upon 
 me ; and distress, importunate distress, urged me to temporary 
 fraud. 
 
 " For this fraud I am to die ; and I die declaring, in the 
 most solemn manner, that however I have deviated from my own 
 precepts, I have taught others, to the best of my knowledge, 
 and with all sincerity, the true way to eternal happiness. My 
 life, for some few unhappy years past, has been dreadftilly erro-
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 neous ; but my ministiy has been always sincere. I have con- 
 stantly believed, and I now leave the world solemnly avowing 
 my conviction, that there is no other name under heaven by 
 wliich we can be saved, but only the name of the Lord Jesus ; 
 and I entreat all who ju-e here to join with me in my last pe- 
 tition, that, for the sake of that Lord Jesus Chrbt, my sins may 
 be forpven, and my soul received into his everlasting king- 
 dom. 
 
 " WILLIAM DODD." 
 
 June 27, 1777.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 ORIOIKALLY PREflXED TO 
 
 THE PRISON THOUGHTS. 
 
 The following Work, m the dates of the respective parts evince, 
 was begtin by its unhappy Author in his apartment at Newgate, 
 on the evening of the day subsequent to his trial and conviction 
 at Justice-hall, and was finished, amidst various necessary inter- 
 ruptions, in little more than the space of two months. 
 
 Prefixed to the Manuscript is the ensuing Note : 
 
 April 23, 1777. 
 
 " I began these thoughts merely from the impression of my 
 mind, without plan, purpose,, or motive, more than the situation 
 and state of my soul. I continued them on a thoughtful and 
 regular plan ; and 1 have been enabled wonderfully in a state, 
 which in better days I should have supposed would have de- 
 stroyed all power of reflection to bring them nearly to a con- 
 clusion. I dedicate them to God, and to the reflecting Serious 
 among my fellow-creatures ; and I bless the Almighty for the 
 ability to go through them, amidst the terrors of this dire place, 
 and the bitter anguish of my disconsolate mind ! 
 
 " The Thinking will easily pardon all inaccui'ades, as I am 
 neither able nor unlling to read over those melancholy lines with 
 a curious and critical eye. They are imperfect, but the lan- 
 guage of the heart ; and, had I time and inclination, might and 
 should be improved. 
 
 " But 
 
 " W. D." 
 
 The few little pieces subjoined to the Thoughts, and the 
 Author's iMSt Prayer, were found amongst his papers. Their 
 evident connection with the Poem was the inducement for 
 adding them to the Volume.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON; 
 
 COMMENCED 
 
 SUNDAY EVENING, EIGHT O'CLOCK*, 
 
 *' February 23, 1777. 
 
 WEEK THE FIRST. 
 
 THE IMPRISONMENT, 
 
 My friends are g^ne ! Harsh on its sullen hinge 
 
 Grates the dread door ; the massy bolts respond 
 
 Tremendous to the svirly keeper's touch. 
 
 The dire keys clang, with movement dull and slow. 
 
 While their behest the ponderous locks perform J 
 
 And fastened firm, the object of their care 
 
 Is left to solitude, ^to sorrow left. 
 
 But wherefore fastened ? Oh still stronger bonds 
 
 * The boor wheo they lock up in this dlsmftl place. 
 
 B
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Imprisonment. 
 
 Thai! holts, or locks, or doors of molten brass. 
 
 To solitude and sorrow would consign 
 
 His anguish'd soul, and prison him, though free I 
 
 For, whither should he fly, or where produce 
 
 In open day, and to the golden sun. 
 
 His hapless head? whence every laurel torn. 
 
 On his bald brow sits grinning Infamy ; 
 
 And all in sportive triumph twines around 
 
 The keen, the stinging adders of disgrace? 
 
 Yet what's disgrace with man ? or all the stings 
 Of pointed scorn ? What the tumultuous voice 
 Of erring multitude ? Or what tl>e shafts 
 Of keenest malice, l^ejl'd frpm. the how 
 Of htiman inquisition ? if the Qod, 
 Who knows the heart, looks with complacence down 
 Upon the struggling victim, and beholds 
 Repentance bursting from the earth-bent eye. 
 And faith's red cross held cjos^ly to t^e bre^t ? 
 
 Oh Author of my bgin^ I pfiny bliss 
 Beneficent dispenser ! wond'rous power. 
 Whose eye, all-searching, thro' this dreary gloom 
 Discerns the deepest secrets of the sovil.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 llie Imprisonment. 
 
 Assist me ! With thy ray of light divine 
 
 Illumine my dark thoughts; upraise my low ) 
 
 And give me wisdom's guidance, while I strive 
 
 Impartially to state the dread account. 
 
 And call myself to trial ! Trial far 
 
 Tlian that more fearftil though how fearful that 
 
 Which trembling late I prov'd ! Oh aid my hand 
 
 To hold the balance equaj, and allow 
 
 ITie few sad moments of remaining life 
 
 To retrospection useful ! make my end. 
 
 As my first wish (thou know'st the heart) haa been 
 
 To make my whole of being to my friends. 
 
 My fellow-pilgrims through tliis world of woe. 
 
 Instructive ! Oh could I conduct but one. 
 
 One only with me to our Canaan's rest. 
 
 How could I meet my fate, nor think it hard ! 
 
 Not tlunk it haurd ? ^Burst into tears, my seul ; 
 Gush every pore of my distracted frame. 
 Gush into drops of blood ? But one ; save one. 
 Or guide to Canaan's rest ? when all thy views 
 In better days were dedicate alone 
 To gurae, persuade to that celestial rest, 
 
 BS
 
 -THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Imprisonment. 
 
 Souls which have listened with devotion's ear 
 To Sion's songs enchanting from thy Ups, 
 And tidings sweet of Jesu's pardoning love ? 
 
 But one, save one ? Oh, what a rest is this I 
 Oh, what a Sabbath in this dungeon's gloom; 
 This prison-house, meet emblem of the realm 
 Reserv'd for the ungodly ! Hark ! methinks 
 I hear the cheerfiil melody of praise 
 And penitential sweetness * ! 'Tis the sound. 
 The well-known sound, to which my soul attixn'd 
 For year succeeding year, hath hearken'd glad. 
 And still witl^ fresh delight : while all my powers 
 In blest employ have press'd the saving truths 
 Of grace divine, and faith's all-conquering might. 
 On the sure Rock of Ages grounded firm. 
 
 Those hours are gone ! and here, from heaven shut out. 
 And heavenly works like these, on this lov'd day. 
 Rest of my God, I only hear around 
 
 * KeferriBg Okore imnediately to the duty of the liag^le>^ 
 CbapeL.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Imprisonment. 
 
 The dismal clang of chains, the hoarse rough shout 
 
 Of dissonant imprecation, and the cry 
 
 Of misery and vice, fn fearful din 
 
 Impetuous mingled! while my frighted mind 
 
 Shrinks back in horror ; while the scalding tears. 
 
 Involuntarily starting, furrow down 
 
 My sickly cheeks ; and whirling thought, confus'd 
 
 For giddy moments, scarce allows to know 
 
 Or where, or who, or what a wretch I am I 
 
 Not know ? Alas ! too well it strikes my heart ; 
 Emphatical it speaks ! while dungeons, chains. 
 And bars and bolts, proclaim the mournful truUi, 
 " Ah, what a wretch thou art ! how sunk, how faH'n 
 " * From what high state of bliss, into what woe I" 
 Fall'n from the topmost bough that plays in air 
 E'en of the tallest cedar ; where aloft 
 Proud happiness her tow'ring eyry built. 
 Built, as I dreamt, for ages. Idle dream ! 
 And yet, amongst the millions of mankind, 
 
 V, . . . 
 
 wKk * Afilton's Paradise Lost, B. 5, i. 540.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The ImprisoDment. 
 
 Who sleep like me, how few, like me deceiv'd, 
 Do not indulge the same fantastic dream ! 
 
 Give me the angel's clarion ! Let me sound 
 Loud as the blast which shall awake the dead ; 
 Oh let me sound, and call the slumberers forth 
 To view the vision which delusion charms j 
 To shake the potent incantation off; 
 Or ere it burst in ruin on their souls. 
 As it has burst on mine. ^Not on my soul ! 
 Retract the dread idea : Righteous God ! 
 Not on my soul ! Oh thpn art gracious all ; 
 And with an eye of pity from thy throne 
 Of majesty supernal, thou behold'st 
 The creatures of thy hand, thy feeble sons. 
 Struggling with sin, with Satan, and the world. 
 Their sworn and deadly foes ; and having felt 
 In human flesh the trials of our kind, 
 Know'st sympathetic how to aid the tried ! 
 
 Rock of my hope ! the rash, rash phrase forg^^ e. 
 Safe is my soul ; nor can it know one fear. 
 Grounded on Thee Unchangeable ! Thee first. 
 Thee last, great Cleanser of all human sin ! \
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRIS6N. 
 
 The Iknprisonihent 
 
 But though secure the vessel rides in port, 
 Held firm by faith's strong anchor, well it suits 
 The mariner to think by what strange means 
 Through perils inconceivable he pass'd 
 Through rocks, sands, pirates, storms, and boisterous 
 
 waves. 
 And happily obtained that port at last. 
 
 On these my thoughts are bent, nor deem it wtong, 
 Minist'ring angels ! whose benignant task, 
 Assign'd by Heaven, is to console distress. 
 And hold up human hearts aunidst the toil 
 Of human woe * 1 ^Blest spirits, who delight 
 In sweet, submissive resignation's smile, ^ 
 
 To that high will you know for ever right ; 
 Deem it not wrong, that with a bleeding heart, 
 I dwell awhile, unworthiest of my race, 
 On those black rocks, those quicksands, waves, and 
 
 storms. 
 Which in a sea of trouble have engulf 'd 
 
 ^ Sec Pvaim xxxiv. 7. Heb. i. 4 4.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Imprisonment 
 
 All, all my earthly comforts ; and have left 
 Me, a poor naked, shipwreck'd, suffering wretch. 
 On this bleak shore, in this confinement drear. 
 At sight of which, in better days, my soul 
 Hath started back with horror ! while my friend. 
 My bosom-partner in each hour of pain. 
 With antidotes preventive kindly arm'd. 
 Trembling for my lov'd health, when christian calls 
 And zeal for others' welfare, haply brought 
 My steps attendant on this den of death ! 
 
 Oh dismal change 1 now not in friendly sort 
 A christian visitor, to pour the balm 
 Of christian comfort in some wretches ear.- 
 I am that wretch myself ! and want, much want. 
 The christian consolation I bestow'd. 
 So cheerfully bestow'd ! want, want, my God, 
 From Thee the mercy, from my fellow-man 
 The lenient mercy, which, great Judge of hearts. 
 To Thee I make the solemn, sad appeal 
 That mercy which Thou know'st my gladsome soul 
 Ever sprang forth with transport to impart ! 
 
 Why then, mysterious Providence ! pursued
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Imprisonment. 
 
 With' such unfeeling ardour? why pursued 
 
 To death's dread bourn, by men to me unknown ? 
 
 Why Stop the deep question} it o'erwhelms my soulj 
 
 It reels, it staggers ! Earth turns round ! my brain 
 
 Whirls in confusion ! my impetuous heart 
 
 Throbs with pulsations not to be restrained ! 
 
 Why? ^where? Oh Chesterfield i my son, my son! 
 
 Nay, talk not of composure! I had thought 
 
 In oldeh time, that my weak heart was soft. 
 
 And pity's self might break it I had thought 
 
 That marble-eyed severity would crack 
 
 Tlie slender nerves which guide my reins of sense. 
 
 And give me up to madness. 'Tis not so : 
 
 My heart is callous, and my nerves are tough ; 
 
 It will not break ! they will not crack ! or else 
 
 A\''hat more, jiKt Heaven, was wanting to the deed. 
 
 Than to behold Oh that eternal night 
 
 Had in that moment screen'd me from myself! 
 
 My Stanhope to behold ! whose filial ear 
 
 Drank pleas'd the lore of wisdom from my tongue! 
 
 My Stanhope to behold ! Ah piercing sight ! 
 
 Foi^et it i 'tis distraction : Speak who can! 
 
 b5
 
 10 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Imprisonment. 
 
 But I am lost ! a criminal adjudg'd ! 
 A guilty miscreant ! Canst thou think, my friend. 
 Oh Butler, 'midst a million faithful found ! 
 Oh canst thou think, who know'st, who long hast known. 
 My inmost soul ; oh canst thou think that life. 
 From such rude outrage for a moment sav'd. 
 And sav'd almost by miracle *, deserves 
 The languid wish, tfr e'er can be sustain'd t 
 
 It can it must! That miracle alone 
 To life gives consequence. Oh deem it not 
 Presumptuous, that my gratefiil soul thus rates 
 The present high deliverance it hath found ; 
 Sole effort of thy wisdom, Sovereign Power, 
 Without whose knowledge not a sparrow fells I 
 Oh may I cease to live, ere cease to bless 
 That interposing hand, which tum'd aside, 
 Nay to my life and preservation tum'd 
 
 * Referring to the case reserved for the solemn decision of 
 the twehe Judges ; and which gave the prisoner a much longer 
 space than his most sanguine friends could have expected, from 
 the complexion of the process. See the Sessions Paper for Feb. 
 lT7r.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 1 1 
 
 The Imprbotiment. 
 
 The fatal blow precipitate, ordain'd 
 
 To level all my little hopes in dust. 
 
 And give me to the grave ! Rather, my hand, 
 
 Forget thy cunning ! Rather shall my tongue 
 
 In gloomy silence bury every note 
 
 To my glad heart respondent, than I cease 
 
 To dedicate to Him who spar'd my life. 
 
 Each breath, each power, while he vouchsafes to lend 
 
 The .precious boon ! ^To Him be all its praise! 
 
 To Him be all its service ! Long or short. 
 
 The gift's the same : to live or die to him 
 
 Is gain sufficient, everlasting gain ; 
 
 And may that gain be mine ! I live, I live ! 
 
 Ye hours, ye minutes, bounty of his grace. 
 
 Fleet not away without improvement due : 
 
 Rich on your wings bear penitence and prayer 
 
 To Heaven's all-clement Ruler; and to man 
 
 Bear all the retribution man can make ! 
 
 Ye precious hours, ye moments snatch'd from death, 
 
 Replete with incense rise, that my cheer'd soul. 
 
 When comes the solemn call, may^ spring away. 
 
 Delighted, to the bosom of its God !
 
 12 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Imprisonment. 
 
 Who shall condemn the trust ? proud rationale, 
 ( That deep in speculation's 'wildering maze 
 Bemuse themselves with error, and confound 
 The laws of men, of nature, and of Heav'n) 
 Presumptuous in their wisdom, dare dethrone 
 Even from his works the Maker j and contend 
 That he who form'd it governs not the world : 
 "While, steep'd in sense's Lethe, sons of earth 
 From the world's partial picture gaily draw 
 Their mad conclusions. Bold broad-staring Vice, 
 Lull'd on the lap of every mundane bliss. 
 At meek-eyed Virtue's patient suffering scofis. 
 And dares with dauntless innocence the God, 
 Regardless of his votaries ! Vain and blind I 
 Alike through wisdom or through folly blind 
 Whose dim contracted view the petty round. 
 The mere horizon of the present hour 
 In darkness terminates ! Oh could I ope 
 The golden portals of eternal day j 
 Pour on your sight the congregated blaze 
 Of light, of wisdom, bursting from the throne 
 Of universal glory } on the- round
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 13 
 
 The Impriaonment. 
 
 The boundless cycle of his moral plan. 
 Who, hid in clouds terrific. Master sits 
 Qf subject men and worlds ; and sees at once 
 The ample scene of present, future, past. 
 All naked to his eye of flame, all rang'd 
 In harmony complete, to work his will. 
 And finish with the plaudit of the skies ! 
 
 But, while this wjielming blazon may not burst 
 On the weak eyes of mortals J while confin'd 
 Thro' dark dim glass,, with dirk dim sight to look 
 All trembling to the future, and collect 
 The scatter'd rays of wisdom ; while referr'd 
 Our infant reason to the guiding hand 
 Of faith strong-eyed, which never quits the view 
 Of Jesus, her great pole-star ! from whose word. 
 Irradiate with the lustre of his love. 
 She learns the mighty Master to explore 
 In all his works ; and from the meanest taught 
 Beholds the God, the Father, Scorn ye not. 
 My fellow-pilgrims, fellow-heirs of death. 
 And, oh triumphant thought ! my fellow-heirs 
 Of life immortal j if not sold to sense
 
 14 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Iniprisonment. 
 
 And infidelity's black cause, you cast 
 Ungracious from yourselves the profFer'd boon ; 
 ^Then scorn not, oh my friends, when Heaven vouch- 
 safes 
 To teach by meanest objects, reptiles, birds. 
 To take one lesson from a worm like me ! 
 
 Proof of a gracious Providence I live ; 
 To him be all the glory ! Of his care 
 Paternal, his supporting signal love, 
 I live each hour an argument. Away 
 The systematic dulness of dispute ! 
 Away, each doating reasoner ! I feel. 
 Feel in my inmost heart the conscious sense. 
 The grateful pressure of distinguish 'd grace. 
 And live, and only wish for life to praise it. 
 
 For say, my soul, ^nor 'midst this silence sad. 
 This midnight, awful, melancholy gloom. 
 Nor in this solemn moment of account 
 'Twixt thee and Heaven, ^when on-his altar lies 
 A sacrifice thy naked bleeding heart ! 
 Say, nor self-flattering, to thy conscience hold 
 The mirror of deceit: could'st thou have thought
 
 THOUGHl^ IN PRISON. 15 
 
 Tbc Lnprisonment. 
 
 Thy nerves, thy head, thy heart, thy frame, thy sense. 
 
 Sufficient to sustain the sudden shock. 
 
 Rude as a bursting earthqviake, which at once 
 
 Toppled the happy edifice adown, 
 
 Wlifilm'd thee and thine beneatli its ruinous crash. 
 
 And buried all in sorrow i ^Torn away 
 
 Impetuous from thy home, thy much lov'd home. 
 
 Without one moment to reflection giv'n ! 
 
 By soothing, solemn promise led to place 
 
 Ingenuous all thy confidence of life 
 
 In men assuming gentle pity's guise ! 
 
 Vain confidence in ought beneath the sun I 
 
 Behold the hour, the dreadful hour arriv'd : 
 
 The prison opes its ruthless gates upon thee ! 
 
 Oh horror ! But what's this, this fresh attack ! 
 'Tis she, 'tis she ! my weeping, fainting wife ! 
 " And hast thou faithful found me ? Has thy lo\=e 
 " Thus burst thro' ev'ry barrier? Hast thou trac'd 
 " ^Deprest in health, and timid as thou art 
 " At midnight trac'd the desolate wild streets, 
 " Thus in a prison's gloom to throw thy arms 
 *' Of conjugal endearment round the neck
 
 16 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Tlie Imprisonment. 
 
 " Of thy lost husband ? Fate, exact thy worst ; 
 
 " Tlie bitterness is past." Idea vain ! 
 
 To tenfold bitterness drench'd in my deep cup 
 
 Of gall the morning rises ! Statue-like, 
 
 Inanimate, half dead, and fainting half. 
 
 To stand a spectacle ! the praster stem 
 
 Denying to my pleading tears one pang 
 
 Of human sympathy ! . Conducted forth. 
 
 Amidst the unfeeling populace ; pursued 
 
 Like some deer, which from the hunter's aim 
 
 Hath ta'en its deadly hurt ; and glad to find 
 
 Panting with woe, my refuge in a jail ! 
 
 Can misery stretch more tight the torturing cord ? 
 
 But hence this softness ! Wherefore thus lament 
 These petty poor escutcheons of thy fate. 
 When lies all worthy of thyself and life. 
 Cold in the herse of ruin ? ^Rather turn 
 Grateful thine eyes, and raise, though red with tears. 
 To his high throne, who looks on thy distress 
 With fatherly compassion ; kindly throws 
 Sweet comfort's mixture in thy cup, and sooths 
 With Gilead's balm thy death-wound. He it is
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 17 
 
 The Imprisonment. 
 
 Who, 'midst the shock disrupting, holds in heahh 
 Thy shatter'd frame, and keeps thy reason clear ; 
 He, He it is, whose pitying power supports 
 Thy humbled soul, deep humbled in the dust. 
 Beneath the sense of guilt ; the mournful sense 
 Of deep transgression 'gainst thy fellow-men. 
 Of sad offence 'gainst Him, thy Father, God ; 
 Who, lavish in his bounties, woo'd thy heart 
 With each paternal blessing ; ah ingrate. 
 And worthless ! Yet (His mercies who can count. 
 Or truly speak his praise !) Yet through this gloom 
 Of self-conviction, lowly he vouchsafes 
 To dart a ray of comfort, like the sun's. 
 All-cheering through a summer's evening shower ! 
 Arch'd in his gorgeous sky, I view the bow 
 Of grace fix'd emblem ! 'Tis that grace alone 
 Which gives my soul its firmness ; builds my hope 
 Beyond the grave ; and bids me spurn the earth ! 
 
 First of all blessings, hail ! Yet Thou from whom 
 Both first and last, both great and small proceed ; 
 Exhaustless source of every good to man. 
 Accept for all the tribute of my praise ;
 
 18 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Imprisonment. 
 
 For all are thine ! Thine the ingenuous friends, 
 
 Who solace with compassion sweet my woe ^ 
 
 Mingle with mine their sympathetic tears ; 
 
 Incessant and disinterested toil 
 
 To work my weal ; and delicately kind. 
 
 Watch every keener sensibility 
 
 That lives about my soul. Oh, more than friends. 
 
 In tenderness my children ! ^Thine are too 
 
 The very keepers of the rugged jail, 
 
 Ill school to learn humanity's soft lore ! 
 
 Yet here humanity their duty pays. 
 
 Respectably affecting ! Whilst they tend 
 
 My little wants, officious In their zeal. 
 
 They turn away, and fain would hide the tear 
 
 That gushes all unbidden to their eye. 
 
 And sanctifies their service. On their heads 
 
 Thy Blessing, Lord of Bounty ! 
 
 ^But, of all. 
 
 All thy choice comforts in this drear distress, 
 God of our first young love ! Thine is the Wife, 
 Who with assiduous care, from night to morn. 
 From mom to night, watches my every need ;
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 19 
 
 The Imprisonment. 
 
 And, as in.brightest days of peace and joy, 
 
 Smiles on my anguish, while her own poor breast 
 
 Is full almost to bursting ! Prostrate, Lord, 
 
 Before thy footstool Thou, whose highest style 
 
 On earth, io heaven, is Love ! ^Thou, who hast breath'd 
 
 Through human hearts the tender charities. 
 
 The social fond affections which unite 
 
 In bonds of sweetest amity those hearts. 
 
 And guide to every good ! ^Thou, whose kind eye 
 
 Complacent must behold the rich, ripe fruit. 
 
 Mature and mellow'd on the generous stock 
 
 Of thy own careful planting ! Low on earth, 
 
 And mingled with my native dust, I cry ; 
 
 With all the Husband's anxious fondness cry ; 
 
 With all the friend's solicitude and truth ; 
 
 With all the teacher's fervour, " God of Love, 
 
 " A'^ouchsafe thy choicest comforts on her head 
 
 " Be thine my fate's decision ; To thy will 
 
 " With angel-resignation, lo! we bend !" 
 
 But hark ! what sound, wounding the night's- dull ear, 
 Bursts sudden on mv sense, and makes more horrible
 
 20 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Imprisonment. 
 
 These midnight horrors ? 'Tis the solemn bell. 
 
 Alarum to the prisoners of death* ! 
 
 Hark ! what a groan, responsive from the cells 
 
 Of condemnation, calls upon my heart. 
 
 My thrilling heart, for intercession strong. 
 
 And pleadings in the sufferer's behalf 
 
 My fellow-sufferers, and my fellow-men ! 
 
 Cease then awhile the strain, my plaintive soul. 
 And veil thy face of sorrow ! Lonely hours 
 Soon will return thee to thy midnight task. 
 For much remains to sing j sad themes, unsung. 
 As deem'd perchance too mournful ; ^yet, what else 
 Than themes like these can suit a muse like mine ? 
 And might it be, that while ingenuous woe 
 Bleeds through my verse ; while the succeeding page. 
 
 * This alludes to a very striking and awful circumstance. 
 The bellman of St. Sepulchre's, near the prison, is, by long and 
 pious custom, appointed to announce at midnight*to the con- 
 demned criminals in their cells. That the hour of thnr depar- 
 ture is at hand !
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. si 
 
 The ImprLsonment. 
 
 Weaving with my sad story the detail 
 
 Of crimes, of punishments, of prisons drear. 
 
 Of present life and future, sad discourse 
 
 And serious shall contain ! Oh might it be. 
 
 That human hearts may listen and improve ! 
 
 Oh might it be, that benefit to souls 
 
 Flow from the weeping tablet ; though the Maa 
 
 la torture die, the Painter shall rejoice ! 
 
 Sunday, March 2, 1777. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST WEEK.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON; 
 
 SUNDAY, MARCH i, i777. 
 
 WEEK THE SECOND. 
 
 'e: THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Gh, not that thou goest hence sweet drooping flower, 
 
 Surcharg'd with Sorrow's dew ! Not that thou quitt'st 
 
 This pent and feverish gloom, which beams with light. 
 
 With health, with comfort, by thy presence cheer'd. 
 
 Companion of my life, and of my woes 
 
 Blest soother ! Not that thou goest hence to drink 
 
 A purer air, and gather from the breath 
 
 Of balmy spring new succour, to recruit 
 
 Thy waning health, and aid thee to sustain. 
 
 With more than manly fortitude, thy own 
 
 And ray afflictive trials ! Not that here. 
 
 Amidst the glories of this genial day.
 
 THOUGm^ IN PKISON. 23 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 liniuur'd, through iron bars I peep at Heaven 
 With dim, lack-lustre eye ! Oh, 'lis not this 
 Tlut drives the poison'd point of torturous thought 
 Deep to my spring of Ufe ! It is not this 
 That prostrate lays me weeping in the dust. 
 And draws in sobs the life-blood from my heart ! 
 
 Well could I bear thy absence : well, full well ; 
 Though angel-comforts in thy converse smile. 
 And make my dungeon Paradise ! Full well 
 Could I sustain through iron bars to view 
 The golden Snn, in bridegroom-majesty 
 Taking benignant Nature to his love. 
 And decking her with bounties ! Well, very well 
 Could I forego the delicate delight 
 Of tracing nature's g^rniens as they bud j 
 Of viewing spring's first children as they rise 
 In innocent sweetness, or beneath the thorn 
 In rural privacy, or on gay parterre 
 More artful, less enchanting! ^Well, veiy well 
 Could I forego tp listen, iJA t)%is hpws^ 
 Of unremitted din, and nought complain j 
 To listen as I oft have stood with thee.
 
 24 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 Listening in fond endearment to the voice. 
 Of stock-dove, through the silence of the wood 
 Hoarse murmuring! ^Wel!, oh could I forego. 
 These innocent, though exquisite delights. 
 Still nevif, and to my bosom still attun'd 
 In moral, mental melody ! Sweet Spring ! 
 Well could I bear this sad exile from thee. 
 Nor drop onp tear reluctant ; for my soul. 
 
 Strong to superior feelings, soars aloft 
 
 If 
 To eminence df misery ! Confin'd 
 
 On this blest day the Sabbath of my God ! 
 
 Not from his house alone, not from the power 
 
 Of joyful worship with assembling crowds *, 
 
 But from the labours once so amply mine. 
 
 The labours of his love. Now, laid aside, 
 
 Cover'd my head with ignominious dust. 
 
 My voice is stopp'd; and had I ev'n the power. 
 
 Strong shame, and stronger grief would to that voice 
 
 Forbid all utierance ! Ah, thrice hapless voice. 
 
 By Heaven's ow finger all-lndulgent tun'd 
 
 * See Psalm IxmIt.
 
 m 
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. -5 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 To touch the heart, and win th' attentive soxil 
 To love of truth divine, how useless now. 
 How dissonant, unstrung ! Like Salem's harps. 
 Once fraught with richest harmony of praise. 
 Hung in sad silence by Euphrates' stream, 
 U{)on the mournful willows ! There they wept. 
 Thy captive people wept, O God ! when thought 
 To bitter memory recall'd the songs, * 
 
 The dulcet songs of Sion ! Oh blest songsj 
 Transporting chorus of united hearts. 
 In cheerful music mounting to the praise 
 Of Sion's King of Glory ! Oh the joy 
 Transcendant, of petitions wing'd aloft 
 With fer\'our irresistible, from throngs 
 Assembled in thy earthly courts, dread King 
 Of all-dependant nature ! looking up 
 For all to Thee, as do the servants eyes 
 Up to their fostering master ! Joy of joys. 
 Amidst such throng'd assemblies to stand forth. 
 To blow the Silver Trumpet of thy Grace, 
 The gbdsome year of jubilee to proclaim. 
 And offer to the aching sinner's heart
 
 26 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Retrospect, 
 
 Redemption's healing mercies ! And methinks, 
 
 ( Indulge the pleasing reverie, my soul ! 
 
 The waking dream, which in oblivion sweet 
 
 Lulls thy o'erlabour'd sense !) methinks convey'd 
 
 To Ham's lov'd shades, dear favourite shades, by peace 
 
 And pure religion sanctify'd, I hear 
 
 The tuneful bells their hallow'd message sound 
 
 To Christian hearts symphonious ! Circling time 
 
 Once more hajth happily brought round the day 
 
 Which calls us to the temple of our God : 
 
 Then let us haste, in decent neatness clad. 
 
 My cheerful little household, to his courts. 
 
 So lov'd, so truly honour'd ! There we'll mix 
 
 In meek, ingenuous deprecation's cry ; 
 
 There we'll unite in fiJl thanksgiving's choir. 
 
 And all the rich melodiousness of praise. 
 
 I feel, I feel the rapture ! David's harp 
 Concordant with a thousand voices sounds : 
 Prayer mounts exidting : Man ascends the skies 
 On wings of angel-fer\'Our ! Holy writ 
 Or speaks the wonders of Jehovah's power. 
 Or tells in more than mortal majesty.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 7 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 The greater wonders of his love to man ! 
 Proofs of that love, see where the mystic signs^ 
 High emblems of unutterable grace. 
 Confirm to man the zeal of Heaven to save. 
 And call to gratitude's best office ! 
 
 W ise 
 In all thy sacred institutions. Lord, 
 Thy Sabbaths with peculiar wisdom shine ; 
 First and high argument, creation done, w' 
 Of thy benign solicitude for man. 
 Thy chiefest, favourite creature. Time is thine ; 
 How just to claim a part, who giv'st the whole ! 
 But oh, how gracious, to assign that part 
 To man's supreme behoof, his soul's best good ; 
 His mortal and his mental benefit ; 
 His body's genial comfort I Savage else. 
 Untaught, xmdisciplin'd, in shaggy pride 
 He'd rov'd the wild, amidst the brutes a brute 
 Ferocious ; to the soft civilities 
 Of cultivated life. Religion, Truth, 
 A barbarous stranger. To thy Sabbaths then 
 All hail, wise Legislator ! 'Tis to these 
 
 c 2
 
 2 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 We owe at once the memory of thy works. 
 
 Thy mighty works of nature and of grace ; 
 
 We owe divine religion : and to these 
 
 The decent comeHness of social life. 
 
 Revere, ye earthly magistrates, who wield 
 
 The sword of Heaven, the wisdom of Heaven's plan. 
 
 And sanctify the Sabbath of your God ! 
 
 Religion's all : With that or stands or falls 
 
 Your country's weal ! but where shall she obtain, 
 
 Religion, sainted pilgrim, shelter safe 
 
 Or honourable greeting ; through the land. 
 
 If led by high and low, in giddy dance. 
 
 Mad profanation on the sacred day 
 
 Of God's appointed rest, her revel-rout 
 
 Insulting heads, and leaves the tempk void ? 
 
 Oh, my lov'd country ! oh, ye thoughtless great. 
 
 Intoxicate with draughts, that opium-like 
 
 For transient moments stupify the mind 
 
 To wake in horrors, and confusion wild ! 
 
 But soft, and know thyself! "Tis not for thee. 
 Poor destitute ! thus grovelling in the dust 
 Of self-annihilation, to assume
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 29 
 
 The Hetrospect. 
 
 The Censor's office, and reprove mankind. 
 
 Ah me, thy day of duty is declin'd ! 
 
 Thou rather, to the quick probe thine own wounds. 
 
 And plead for mercy at the judgment seat. 
 
 Where conscience smites thee for th' offence deplor'd. 
 
 Yet not presumptuous deem it. Arbiter 
 Of human thoughts, that through the long, long gloom 
 Of multiply'd transgressions, I behold 
 Complacent smiling on my sickening soul, 
 " Delight in thy lov'd Sabbaths! " Well thou know'st- 
 For thou know'st all things, that the cheerful sound ' 
 Of that blest day's return, for circling weeks. 
 For months, for years, for more than trice seven years. 
 Was music to my heart ! My feet rejoic'd 
 To bear me to thy temples, ha{)ly fraught 
 With Comfort's tidings ; with thy gospel's truth. 
 The gospel of thy peace ! Oh, well thou know'st. 
 Who knowest all things, with what welcome toil. 
 What pleasing assiduity I search'd 
 TTiy heavenly word, to learn thy heavenly will j 
 That faithful I might minister its truth. 
 And of the high commission nought kept back
 
 30 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 From the great congregation * ! Well thou know'st, 
 
 Sole, sacred witness of my private hours, 
 
 How copiously I bath'd with pleading tears. 
 
 How earnestly in prayer consign'd to Thee 
 
 The humble efforts of my trembling pen ; 
 
 My best, weak efforts in my Master's cause ; 
 
 Weak as the feather 'gainst the giant's shield. 
 
 Light as the gosmer floating on the wind. 
 
 Without thy aid omnipotent ! Thou know'st 
 
 How, anxious to improve in every grace. 
 
 That best to man's attention might commend 
 
 Th' important message, studious I apply'd 
 
 My feeble talents to the holy art 
 
 Of 'suasive elocution ; emulous 
 
 Of every acquisition which might clothe 
 
 In purest dignity the purest work. 
 
 The first, the highest office man can bear, 
 
 " The messenger of God I " And well thou know'st, 
 
 ^For all the work, as all the praise is thine 
 
 What sweet success accompanied the toil 3 
 
 * Psalm xl. ver. 10.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 31 
 
 The Retrospect 
 
 What harvests bless'd the seed-time ! Well thou know'st 
 
 With what triumphant gladness my rapt soui 
 
 Wrought in the vineyard ! how it thankful bore 
 
 The noon-day's heat, the evening's chilly frost. 
 
 Exulting in its much-lov'd Master's cause 
 
 To spend, and to be spent ! and bring it home 
 
 From triple labours of the well-toil'd day, 
 
 A body by fatigue o'erborne ; a mind 
 
 Replete with glad emotions to its God ! 
 
 Ah, my lov'd household ! ah, my little round 
 
 Of social friends ! well do you bear in mind 
 
 Those pleasing evenings, when, on my return, 
 
 Much-wTsh'd return serenity the mild. 
 
 And cheerfulness the innocent, with me 
 
 Enter'd the happy dwelling ! Thou, my Erncs^ 
 
 Ingenuous youth ! whose early spring bespoke 
 
 Thy summer, as it is, with richest crops 
 
 Luxuriant waving ; gentle youth, canst thou 
 
 Those welcome hours forget? or thou oh thoul- 
 
 How shall I utter from my beating heart 
 
 Tliy name, so musical, so heaveiJy sweet 
 
 Ooce to the$e ears distracted ! Stanhope, say.
 
 32 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 Canst thou forget those hours, when, cloth'd in smiles 
 
 Of fond respect, thou and thy friend have strove 
 
 Whose Uttle hands should readiest supply 
 
 My willing wants ; officious in your zeal 
 
 To make the Sabbath evenings, like the day, 
 
 A scene of sweet composure to my soul * i 
 
 Oh happy Sabbaths ! Oh my soul's delight ! 
 
 Oh days of matchless mercy ! matchless praise ! 
 
 Gone, gone, for ever gone ! How dreadful spent. 
 
 Useless, in tears, and groans, and bitter woe. 
 
 In this wild place of horrors f! Oh, return. 
 
 Ye happy Sabbaths ! or to that lov'd realm 
 
 Dismiss me. Father of compassions, where 
 
 Reigns one eternal Sabbath ! Though my voice. 
 
 Feeble at best, be damp'd, and cannot soar 
 
 Good Friday, Easter, &c. once so peculiarly liappy 
 yet how past here! What a sad want of the spirit of re- 
 formation! 
 
 t Boethius tas a reflection highly applicable to the sense 
 of our Author: " Nee inficiari possum prosperitatis meae \e- 
 iocissimum cursum. Sed hoc est, quod recolentem me vehemen- 
 tius coquit. Nam in omni adTersitate fortunae, infelicissimuru 
 genus est infortunii, fuisse fcUcem." De Consol. L. 2. Pros. 4. 
 
 #..
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 33 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 To strains sublime, beneath the sorrowing sense 
 Of base ingratitude to thee, my God, 
 My Father, Benefactor, Saviour, Friend, 
 Yet in that realm of rest 'twill quickly catch 
 -Congenial harmony ! 'twill quickly rise. 
 Even from humility's weak, trembling touch ; 
 Rise with the glowing Seraph in the choir. 
 And strive to be the loudest in thy praise. 
 
 Too soaring thought ! that in a moment sunk 
 By sad reflection and convicting guilt. 
 Falls prostrate on the earth, So, pois'd in air. 
 And warbling his wild notes about the clouds. 
 Almost beyond the ken of human sight ; 
 Clapp'd to his side his plumy steerage, down 
 Drops instantaneous drops the silent lark ! 
 
 How shall I mount to Heaven ? how join the choir 
 
 "Celestial of bright Seraphim ? deprest 
 
 Beneath the burden of a thousand sins. 
 
 On what blest dove-like wing shall I arise. 
 
 And fly to the wish'd rest ? 
 
 Of counsel free, 
 
 "Seme to my aching heart, with kind intent, 
 
 c5
 
 34 THOUGHTS IN PRISOK. 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 Offer the poisonous balsam of desert ; 
 *' Bid me take comfort from the cheering view 
 " Of deeds benevolent, and active Ufe 
 " Spent for the w^eal of others ! " Syren-songs, 
 Soon hush'd by how^lings of severe reproach, 
 UnfeeUng, nncompassionate, arid rude. 
 Which o'er my body, panting on the earth. 
 With wounds incurable, insulting, whirls 
 Her iron scourge : accumulates each ill 
 That can to man's best fame damnation add j 
 Spies not one mark of white throughout my life ; 
 And, groaning o'er my anguish to despair. 
 As my soul, sad resource, indignant points ! 
 
 But not from you, ah cruel, callous foes. 
 Thus to exult and press a fallen man ! 
 Nor even from you, though kind, mistaken friends, 
 Admit we counsel here. Too deep the stake. 
 Too awful the inquiry how the soul 
 May smile at death, and meet its God in peace 
 To rest the answer on uncertmn man ! 
 ' Alike above your friendship or your hate. 
 Here, here I tour triumphant, and behold
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 35 
 
 liie Retrosiiect. 
 
 At once confirm'd security and joy. 
 Beyond tlie reach of mortal hand to shake. 
 Or for a moment cloud. Hail, bleeding Love! 
 In thy humiliation deep and dread. 
 Divine Philanthropist, my ransom'd soli! 
 Beholds its triumph, and avows its cure. 
 Its perfect, free salvation ! knows or feels 
 No merit, no dependence, but thy faith. 
 Thy hope and love consummate ! All abjures ; 
 Casts all, each care, each burden, at the foot 
 Of thy victorious cross : is heart and life 
 One wish, one word uniting ever may 
 Tlmt wish and word in me, blest Lord, unite ! 
 *' Oh, ever may in me TKy will be done I " 
 Firm and unshaken, as old Sion's Hill, 
 Remains this sure foundation: who on Christ, 
 The Comer-Stone, build faithful, build secure, 
 Tlternity is theirs. Then talk no more. 
 Ye airy, vague, fantastic reasoners. 
 Of the light stubble, crackling in the fire 
 Of God's investigation ; of the chaff 
 Dispers'd and floating 'fore the slightest Avtid,
 
 36 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 The chafF of human merit ! gracious God ! 
 What pride, what contradiction in the term ; 
 Shall man, vain man, drest in a little power 
 Deriv'd from Nature's Author ; and that power 
 Holding, an humble tenant, at the will 
 Of him who freely gave it ; His high will. 
 The dread Supreme Disposer, shall poor man, 
 A beggar indigent and vile, enrich'd 
 With every precious faculty of soul. 
 Of reason, intellect; with every gift 
 Of animal life luxuriant, from the store 
 Of unexhausted bounty ; shall he turn 
 That bounty to abuse , lavish defy 
 The Giver with his gifts, a rebel base ! 
 And yet, presumptuous, arrc^nt, deceiv'd. 
 Assume a pride for actions not his &wn. 
 Or boast of merit, when his all's for God, 
 And he that all has squander'd ? Purest saints. 
 Brightest archangels, in the choir of heaven. 
 Fulfilling all complete his holy will, 
 Who plac'd them high in glory as they stand. 
 Fulfil but duty ! nay, as owing more
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 87 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 From love's supreme distinction, readier veil 
 
 Their radiant faces with their golden plumes. 
 
 And fall more humbled 'fore the throne they hymn 
 
 With gratitude superior. Could bold pride 
 
 One moment whisper-to their lucid souls 
 
 Desert's intolerable folly, down. 
 
 Like Lucifer, the morning star, they'd fall 
 
 From their bright state obscur'd ! Then, proud, poor 
 
 worm, > 
 
 Conceiv'd in sins, offending from thy youth. 
 In every point transgressor of the law 
 Of righteousness, of merit towards God, 
 Dream, if thou canst ; or, madman if thou art, 
 Stand on that plea for heav'n and be undone ! 
 
 Blest be thy tender mercy, God of Grace ! 
 That 'midst the terrors of this trying hour. 
 When in this midnight, lonely, prison gloom. 
 My inmost soul hangs naked to thy view ; 
 When, undissembled in the search, I fain 
 Would know, explore, and balance every thought ; 
 (For oh, I see Eternity's dread gates 
 Expand before me, soon perhaps to close! )
 
 sa THOUGHTS IN PRISON; 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 Blest be thy mercy, that, subdued to thee, 
 Each lofty vain imagination bows ; 
 Each high idea humbled in the dust. 
 Of self-sufficient righteousness, my soul 
 Disclaims, abhors, with reprobation full. 
 The slightest apprehension ! worthless. Lord, 
 Even of the meanest Crumb beneath thy board. 
 
 Blest be thy mercy, that, so far from due, 
 I own thy bounties, manifold and rich. 
 Upon my soul have laid a debt so deep. 
 That I can never pay ! And oh ! I feel 
 Compunction inexpressible, to think 
 How I have us'd those bouniies ! sackcloth-clad. 
 And cover'd o'er with ashes, I deplore 
 My utter worthlessness j and, trembling, own 
 Thy wrath and just displeasure, well might sink 
 In deeper floods than these, that o'er my head 
 Roar horrible, in fiery floods of woe. 
 That know nor end nor respite! but my God, 
 Blest be thy mercy ever ! Thou'st not left 
 My soul to Desperation's dark dismay j 
 On Calvary's Hill my mourning eye discerns.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 39 
 
 ITie Retrospect. 
 
 With faith's clear view, that Spectacle which wipes 
 Each tear away, and bids the heart exult ! 
 There hangs the love of God 1 There hangs of man 
 The ransom ; there the Merit ; there the Cure 
 Of human grief The \^'ay, the Truth, the Life ! 
 
 O thou, for sin burnt-sacrifice complete ! 
 Oh Thou, of hoiy life th' exemplar bright ! 
 Perfection's lucid mirror ! while to Thee 
 Repentance scarce dare lift her flowing eyes. 
 Though in his strong arms manly Faith supports 
 The self-convicted mourner ! Let not love. 
 Source of thy matchless mercies, aught delay. 
 Like Mary, with Humility's meek hand 
 Her precious box of costly Nard to pour 
 On thy dear feet, diffusing through the house 
 The odour of her unguents ! Let not love. 
 Looking with Gratitude's full eye to Thee, 
 Cease with the hallow'd fragrance of her works 
 To cheer thy lowliest members ; to refresh 
 Thee in thy saints afflicted ! Let not love. 
 Cease with each spiritual grace, each temper mild, 
 Fruits of the Holy Spirit, to enrich,
 
 4a THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 To fill, perfume, and sanctify the soul 
 Assimulate to Thee, sweet Jesu! Thee 
 That soul's immortal habitant. How blest. 
 How beyond value rich the privilege. 
 To welcome such a Guest ! how doubly blest 
 With such a signature, the royal stamp 
 Of thy resemblance. Prince of Righteousness, 
 Of Mercy, Peace, and Truth ! Oh more and more 
 Transform me to that Image ! More and more 
 Thou New Creation's Author, form complete 
 In me the birth divine ; the heavenly mind. 
 The love consummate, all-performing love. 
 Which dwelt in TTiee, its Pattern and its Source ; 
 And is to man, happy regenerate man. 
 Heaven's surest foretaste, and its earnest too. 
 
 The thought delights and cheers, though not elates ; 
 Through pensive Meditation's sable gloom 
 It darts a ray of soft, well-temper'd light, 
 A kind of lunar radiance on my soul. 
 Gentle, not dazzling ! Thou who knowest all, 
 Know'sfwell, thrice gracious Master ! that my heart 
 Attun'd to thy de^r ]k)vc, howe'er scduc'd
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 41 
 
 The Retroipect 
 
 By worldly adulation from its vows. 
 And for a few contemptible, contemn'd 
 Unhappy moments faithless ; well thou koow'st 
 That heart ne'er knew true peace but in thy love : 
 That heart hath in thy love known thorough peace j 
 Hath frequent panted for that love's full growth j 
 And sought occasions to display its warmth 
 By deeds of kindness, mild humanity. 
 And pitying mercy to its fellow-men! 
 
 And thou hast blest me ! and I will rejoice 
 That thou hast blest me! thou hast giv'n my soul 
 The Luxury of Luxuries, to wipe 
 The tear from many an eye j to stop the groan 
 At many an aching heart. And thou wilt wipe 
 The tears from mine, and thou the groan repress : 
 And thou, for oh, this beating heart is thine, 
 Fram'd by thy hand to pity's quickest touch, 
 Thou wilt forgive the sinner ; and bestow 
 Mercy, sweet mercy ! which, inspir'd by thee. 
 He never had the power, and ne'er the will. 
 To hold from others where he could bestow ! 
 
 Shall he not then rest happily secure
 
 m 
 
 42 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Retrospect 
 
 Of mercy, thrice blest mercy from mankind ? 
 
 Where rests it? Resignation's meek-ey'd power 
 
 Sustain me still ^ Composure still be mine : 
 
 Where rests it ? Oh mysterious Providence ! 
 
 Silence the wild idea : I have found 
 
 No mercy yet j no mild humanity: 
 
 With cruel unrelenting rigour torn. 
 
 And, lost in prison, wild to all below ! 
 So from liis daily toil, returning late 
 
 O'er Grison's rugged mountains, clad in snow. 
 
 The peasant with astonish'd ^es beholds 
 
 A gaunt wolf, from the pine-grove howling rush j 
 
 Chill horror stiffens him, alike to fly 
 
 Unable, to resist j the monster feeds 
 
 Blood-happy, growling, on his quivering heart ! 
 
 Meanwhile light blazes in his lonely cot 
 
 The crackling hearth ; his careful wife prepares 
 
 Her humble cates ; and through the lattic'd light 
 
 His little ones, expecting his return, 
 
 Peep, anxious ! Ah, poor victim, he nor hearth 
 
 Bright blazing, nor the housewife's humble cates. 
 
 Nor much-loy'd children, henceforth more shall see !
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 43 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 But soft : Tis calm reflection's midnight hour ; 
 
 'Tis the soul's solemn inquest. Broods a thought 
 
 Resentful in thy bosom ? Art thou yet. 
 
 Penitent Pilgrim, on earth's utmost bourn. 
 
 And candidate for Heaven, Art thou yet. 
 
 In love imperfect? and has malice place. 
 
 With dark revenge, and unforgiving hate. 
 
 Hell's blackest offspring ? Glory to my Crod ! 
 
 With triumph l^t me sing, and close my strain- 
 Abhorrent ever from my earliest youth 
 
 Of these detested passions, in this hour. 
 
 This trying hour of keen oppressive grief, 
 
 Aly soul superior rises ; nor of these 
 
 Malevolent, a touch, the slightest touch 
 
 Feels, or shall ever harbour ! Though it feels 
 
 In all their amplitude, with all their weight, 
 
 Ungentlest treatment, and a load of woe. 
 
 Heavy as that which fabling poets lay 
 
 On proud Enceladus ! Though life be drawn 
 
 By Cruelty's fierce hand down to the lees. 
 
 Yet can my heart with all the truth of prayer, 
 
 With all the fervour of sincere desire.
 
 44 THOUGHTS IN PRTSON. 
 
 The Retrospect. 
 
 Looking at Thee, thou love of God and man^ 
 Yet can my heart in life or death implore, 
 " Father, forgive them, as Thou pitiest me !" 
 
 Oh, where's the wonder, when thy cross is seen ! 
 Oh, where's the wonder, when thy voice is heard ? 
 Harmonious intercession ! Son of God ! 
 Oh, where's the wonder or the merit where. 
 Or what's the task to love-attuned souls- 
 Poor fellow-creatures pitying, to implore 
 Forgiveness for them ? Oh forgive my foes ! 
 Best friends, perchance, for they may bring to Thee J- 
 Complete forgiveness on them, God of Grace ! 
 Complete forgiveness, in the dreadful hour, 
 When most they need forgiveness ! And oh ! such 
 As in that dreadful hour, my poor heart wants, 
 And trust, great Father, to receive from Thee, 
 Such full forgiveness grant j and my glad soul 
 Shall fold them then, my brethren, in thy house! 
 
 Thus do I sooth, and while away with song 
 My lonely hours in drear confinement past. 
 Like thee, oh gallant Raleigh ! or like thee. 
 My hapless ancestor, fam'd Overbury !
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 46 
 
 The RetrotpecL 
 
 But oh, in this how different is our fate ! 
 
 Thou to a vengeful woman's subtle wiles 
 
 A hapless victim fall'st j while my deep gloom, 
 
 Brighten'd by female virtue, and the light 
 
 Of conjugal affection leads me oft. 
 
 Like the poor prison'd linnet, to forget 
 
 Freedom, and tuneful friends, and russet heath. 
 
 Vocal with native melody; to swell 
 
 The feeble throat, and chant the lowly strain ; 
 
 As in the season, when from spray to spray 
 
 Flew liberty on light elastic wing. 
 
 She flies no more : ^Be mute my plaintive lyre ! 
 
 Mitrch 15, 1777. 
 
 END OF THE SECOKO WEEK.
 
 m 
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON; 
 
 MARCH 18, 17-77. 
 
 WEEK THE THIRD. 
 
 PUBLIC PUNISHMENT. 
 
 Vain are thy generous efforts, worthy Bull*, 
 Thy kind compassion's vain ! The hour is come : 
 Stern fate demands compUance : I must pass 
 Through various deaths, keen torturing, to arrive 
 At that my heart so fervently implores ; 
 Yet fruitless. Ah ! vt^hy hides he his fell front 
 From woe, from wretchedness, that with glad smiles 
 Would welcome his approach ; and tyrant-like. 
 Delights to dash the jocund roseate cup 
 
 * Fwderiek Bull, Esq. Alderman of London ; to whose kindness 
 and humanity the Author has expressed the highest obltgations.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 47 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 From the full hand of gaudy luxury 
 And unsuspecting ease ! Far worse than death 
 That prison's entrance, whose idea chills 
 With freezing horror all my curdling blood ; 
 Whose very name, stamping with infamy. 
 Makes my soul frighted start, in frenzy whirl'd. 
 And verging near to madness ! See, they ope 
 Their iron jaws ! See the vast gates expand. 
 Gate after gate and in an instant twang, 
 Clos'd by their growling keepers ; when again. 
 Mysterious powers ! oh when to open on me ? 
 Mercy, sweet Heaven, support my faltering steps. 
 Support my sickening heart ! My full eyes swim 1 
 O'er all my frame distils a cold damp sweat! 
 Hark ^what a rattling din ! on every side 
 The congregated chains clank frightful : Throngs 
 Tumultuous press aroimd, to view, to gaze 
 Upon the wretched stranger; scarce believ'd 
 Other than visitor within such walls. 
 With mercy and with freedom in his hands. 
 Alas, how chang'd ! Sons of confinement, see 
 No pitying deliverer, but a wretch
 
 48 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 O'erwhelm'd with misery, more hapless far 
 Than the most hapless 'mongst ye ; loaded hard 
 With guilt's oppressive irons ! His are chains 
 No time can loosen, and no hand unbind : 
 Fetters which gore the soul. Oh horror, horror ! 
 Ye massive bolts, give way : ye sullen doors. 
 Ah, open quick, and from this clamorous rout. 
 Close in my dismal, lone, allotted room 
 Shrowd me ; for ever shrowd from human sight. 
 And make it, if 'tis possible, my grave ! 
 
 How truly welcome, then ! Then would I greet 
 With hallow'd joy the drear, but blest abode ; 
 And deem it far the happiest I have known. 
 The best I e'er inhabited. But alas ! 
 There's no such mercy for me. I must run 
 Misery's extremest round ; and this must be 
 A while my living grave ; the doleful tomb. 
 Sad sounding with my unremitted groans. 
 And moisten'd with the bitterness of tears ! 
 
 Ah, mournful dwelling ! destin'd ne'er to see 
 The human face divine in placid smiles. 
 And innocent gladness cloth'd j destin'd to hear
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 49 
 
 Public Punishment 
 
 No sounds of genial heart-reviving joy ! 
 The sons of sorrow only are thy guests. 
 And thine the only music of their sighs. 
 Thick sobbing from the tempest of their breasts ! 
 Ah, mournful dwelling ! never hast thou seen. 
 Amidst the numerous wretched ones immur'd 
 Within thy stone-^rt compass,' wretch so sunk. 
 So lost, so ruin'd, as the man who falls 
 Thus in deep anguish, on thy ruthless floor. 
 And baths it with the torrent of his tears. 
 
 And can it be ? or is it all a dream ? 
 A vapour of the mind ? I scarce believe 
 Myself awake or acting. Sudden thus 
 Am I so compass'd round with comforts late. 
 Health, freedom, peace, torn, torn from all and lost ! 
 A prisoner in Impossible ! I sleep ! 
 'Tis fancy's coinage ! 'tis a dream's delusion ! 
 
 Vain dream ! vain fancy ! Quickly I am rous'd 
 To all the dire reality's distress : 
 I tremble, start, and feel myself awake. 
 Dreadfully awake to all my woes ; and roll 
 From wave to wave on Sorrow's oce^n toss'd } 
 
 D
 
 50 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public PuQisbment. 
 
 Oh for a moment's pause, a moment's rest. 
 To calm my hurried spirits ! to recal 
 Reflection's staggering pilot to the helm. 
 And still the maddening whirlwind in my soul I 
 It cannot be ! The din increases round : 
 Rpugh voices rage discordant ; dreadful shrieks ; 
 Hoarse imprecations dare the Thunderer's ire. 
 And call down swift damnation ! thousand chains 
 In dismal notes clink, mirthful ! Roaring bursts 
 Of loud obstreperous laughter, and strange choirs 
 Of gutturals, dissonant and rueful, vex 
 Ev'n the dull ear of midnight ! Neither rest. 
 Nor peaceful calm, nor silence of the mind. 
 Refreshment sweet, nor interval or pause 
 From morn to eve, from eve to mom is fotmd 
 Amidst the surges of this troubled sea* ! 
 
 It is but a just tribute to Mr. Ackerman, the keeper of 
 this dismal place, to observe, that all the evils here enumerated 
 are the immediate consequences of promiscuous confinement, 
 and no way chargeable to Mr. A.'s account. It is from the 
 strictest observation, I am persuaded, that no man couW da
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 51 
 
 Public Punishment 
 
 So, from the Leman Lake th' impetuous Rhone 
 His blue waves pushes rapid, and bears down 
 Furiate to meet Saone's pellucid stream, 
 (With roar tremendous, through the craggy straits 
 Of Alpine rocks) his freight of waters wild : 
 Still rushing in perturbed eddies on ; 
 And still from hour to hour, from age to age. 
 In conflux vast and unremitting, pours 
 His boisterous flood to old Lugdunim's wall ! 
 
 Oh my rack'd brain oh my distracted heart ! 
 The tiunult thickens : wild disorder grows 
 More painfully confiis'd ! ^And can it be ? 
 Is this the mansion this the house ordain'd 
 For recollection's solemn purpose ! this 
 The place from whence full many a flitting soul 
 <The work of deep repentance mighty work. 
 
 ioore in the present cii'cumstances. His attention is great, 
 and his kindness and humanity to those in sickness or affliction 
 peculiarly pleasing. I can bear testimony to many signal In- 
 staaces, which I have remarked since my sad confinement. 
 
 O S
 
 52 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment 
 
 Still, still to be perform'd) must mount to God, 
 
 And give its dread account 1 Is this the place 
 
 Ordain'd by justice, to confine a while, 
 
 The foe to civil order, and return 
 
 Reform'd and moraliz'd to social life ! 
 
 This den of drear confusion, wild uproar. 
 
 Of mingled riot and unblushing vice ! 
 
 This school of infamy 1 from whence, improv'd 
 
 In every hardy villany, returns 
 
 More harden'd, more a foe to God and marv. 
 
 The miscreant, nurs'd in its infectious lap. 
 
 All cover'd with its pestilential spots. 
 
 And breathing death and poison wheresoe'er 
 
 He stalks contagious ! from the lion's den 
 
 A lion more ferocious as confin'd ! 
 
 Britons, while sailing in the golden barge 
 Of giddy dissipation, on the stream. 
 Smooth silver stream of gorgeous luxury. 
 Boast gsdly and for ages may they boast. 
 And truly ; for through ages we may trust 
 "Twill interpose between our crimes and Got!, 
 And turn away his just avenging scourge'
 
 thOUGHTS IN PRISON. 63 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 ." The national Humanity !" Hither then. 
 Ye sons of pity, and ye sons of thought ! 
 Whether by public zeal and patriot love. 
 Or by Compassion's gentle stirrings wrought. 
 Oh hither come, and find sufficient scope 
 For all the patriot's, all the Christian's search ! 
 Some great, some salutary plan to frame. 
 Turning confinement's curses into good ; 
 And, like the God who but rebukea to save, 
 ^Extracting comfort from correction's stroke ! 
 
 Why do we punish ? Why do penal laws 
 Coercive, by tremendous sanctions bind 
 Offending mortals ? Justice on her throne 
 Rigid on this hand to example points j 
 More mild to reformation upon that : 
 She balances, and finds no ends but these. 
 
 Crowd then, along with yonder revel-rout. 
 To exemplary punishment, and mark 
 The language of the multitude, obscene. 
 Wild, blasphemous, and cruel ! Tent their looks 
 Of madding, dnmken, thoughtless, ruthless gaze. 
 Of giddy curiosity and vain !
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punidiment. 
 
 Their deeds still more emphatic, note ; and see 
 
 By the sad spectacle unimpress'd, they dare 
 
 Even in the eye of death, what to their doom 
 
 Brought their expiring fellows ! Learn we hence. 
 
 How to example's salutary end 
 
 Our justice sagely ministers ! But one, 
 
 Should there be one thrice hapless, of a mind 
 
 By guilt unharden'd, and above the throng 
 
 Of desperate miscreants, through repeated crimes 
 
 In stupor lull'd, and lost to every sense ; 
 
 Ah me, the sad reverse ! should there be one 
 
 Of generous feelings ; whom remorseless fate. 
 
 Pallid necessity, or chill distress. 
 
 The family's urgent call, or just demand 
 
 Of honest creditor, (solicitudes 
 
 To reckless, pamper'd worldlings all unknown) 
 
 Should there be one, whose trembling, frighted hand. 
 
 Causes like these in temporary guilt. 
 
 Abhorrent to his inmost soul, have plung'd. 
 
 And made obnoxious to the rigid law ! 
 
 Sentenc'd to pay, and, wearied with its weight, 
 
 "V^'ell-pleas'd to pay with life that law's demand ;
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Awful dispensers of strict justice, say. 
 
 Would ye have more than life ? or, in an age, 
 
 A country, where humanity reverts 
 
 At torture's bare idea, would you tear 
 
 Worse than on racking wheels a soul like this. 
 
 And make him of the stupid crowd a gaze 
 
 For lingering hours ? drag him along to death 
 
 An useless spectacle ; and more than slay 
 
 Your living victim ? Death is your demand : 
 
 Death your law's sentence : then this life is yours ; 
 
 Take the just forfeit; you can claim no more ! 
 
 Foe to my infidelity, and griev'd 
 That he avows not, from the Christian source. 
 The first great Christian duty, which so well. 
 So forcibly he paints ! ^Yet let me greet 
 With heart-felt gratulations thy warm zeal. 
 Successful in that sacred duty's cause. 
 The cause of our humanity, Voltaire ! 
 Torture's vile agents trembling at thy pen : 
 Intolerance and persecution gnash 
 Their teeth, despairing at the lucid rays 
 Of truth all prevalent, beaming from thy page.
 
 66 THOUGttl^ IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 The rack, the wheel, the dungeon, and the flame. 
 
 In happier Europe useless and unknown. 
 
 Shall soon, oh speed the hour. Compassion's God, 
 
 Be seen no more ; or seen as prodigies. 
 
 Scarce credited, of Gothic barbarous times. 
 
 Ah, gallant France, for milder manners fam'd. 
 How wrung it my sad soul, to view expos'd 
 On instruments of torture mangled limbs 
 And bleeding carcases, beside thy roads. 
 Thy beauteous woods and avenues ! Fam'd works. 
 And worthy well the grandeur of old Rome ! 
 
 We, too, who boast of gentler laws, reform'd 
 And civiliz'd by liberty's kind hand ; 
 ' Of mercy boast, and mildest punishments : 
 Yet punishments of torture exquisite 
 And idle ; painful, ruinous parade ! 
 We, too, with Europe humaniz'd, shall drop 
 The barbarous severity of death. 
 Example's bane, not profit ; shall abridge 
 The savage base ovation ; shall assign 
 The wretch, whose life is forfeit to the lav\rs. 
 With all the silent dignity of woe.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 57 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 With all the mournful majesty of death, 
 Retir'd and solemn, to his awful fate ! 
 Shall to the dreadful moment, moment still 
 To souls best fitted, give distinction due ; 
 Teach the well-order'd sufferer to depart 
 With each impression serious ; nor insult 
 With clamorous crowds and exultations base, 
 A soul, a fellow-soul, which stands prepar'd 
 On time's dread verge to take its wondrous flight. 
 To realms of immortality I Yes, the day 
 I joy in the Idea, will arrive, 
 When Britons philanthropic shall reject 
 The cruel custom, to the sufferer cruel. 
 Useless and baneful to the gaping crowd ! 
 The day will come, when life, the dearest price 
 Man can pay down, sufficient forfeit deem'd 
 For guilty man's transgression of the law, 
 Shall be paid down, as meet for such a price 
 Respectful, sad i widi reverence to a soul's 
 Deparuire hence ; with reverence to the soul's 
 And body's separation, much-lov'd friends ! 
 Without a torture to augment its loss, 
 
 d5
 
 68 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Without an insult to molest its calm ; 
 
 To the demanded debt no fell account 
 
 Of curious, hissing ignominy annex'd ; 
 
 Anguish, beyond the bitterest torture keen ; 
 
 Unparallel'd in realms where bigotry 
 
 Gives to the furious sons of Dominic 
 
 Her sable flag, and marks their way with blood. 
 
 Hail, milder sons of Athens ! civiliz'd 
 By arts ingenious, by the 'suasive power 
 Of humanizing science : well ye thought. 
 Like you may Britons think, that 'twas enough. 
 The sentence pass'd, a Socrates should die ! 
 The sage, obedient to the law's decree. 
 Took fror^ the weeping executioner 
 TTie draught, resign'd ; amidst his sorrowing friends. 
 Full of immortal hopes, convers'd sublime ; 
 And, half in Heaven compos'd himself, and died ! 
 
 Oh cm7'd fate ! oh happiness supreme ! 
 So let me die ; so, "Amidst my weeping friends. 
 Resign my life I I ask not the delay 
 Ev'n of a moment. Law, thou'st have thy due! 
 Nor thou, nor justice, can have more to claim.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. $9 
 
 Public Pumshment 
 
 fiut equal laws, on truth and reason built. 
 Look to humanity with lenient eye. 
 And temper rigid justice with the claims 
 Of heaven-descended mercy ! to condemn 
 Sorrowing and slow j while studious to correct. 
 Like man's all-gracious parent, with the view 
 Benign and laudable, of moral good, 
 And reformation perfect. Hither then. 
 Ye sons of sympathy, of wisdom; friends 
 To order, to compassion, to the state. 
 And to your fellow-beings ; hither come. 
 To this wild realm of uproar ! hither haste. 
 And see the reformation, see the good 
 Wrought by confinement in a den like this \ 
 
 View, with unblushing front, undaunted heart. 
 The callous harlot in the open day 
 Administer her poisons 'midst a rout 
 Scarcely less bold or poison'd than herself ! 
 View, and with eyes that will not hold the tear 
 In gentle pity gushing for such grieft, 
 View, the young wretch, as yet unfledg'd in vice. 
 Just shackled here, and by the vetexan throng.
 
 60 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 In every infamy and every crime 
 
 Grey and insulting, quickly taught to dare, 
 
 Harden'd like them in guilt's opprobrious school j 
 
 Each bashful sentiment, incipient grace. 
 
 Each yet remorseful thought of right and wrong 
 
 Murder'd and buried in his darken'd heart ! 
 
 Hear how these veterans clank, ev'n jovial clank 
 
 Such is obduracy and vice their chains * ! 
 
 Hear, how with curses hoarse and vauntings bold. 
 
 Each spirits up, encourages and dares 
 
 His desperate fellow to more desperate proofs 
 
 Of future hardy enterprise ; to plans 
 
 Of death and ruin ! Not exulting more 
 
 Heroes or chiefs for noble acts renown'd. 
 
 Holding high converse, mutually relate 
 
 * This circumstance is slightly mentioned before, and alludes 
 to a fact equally singular and disgustful. Tlie rattling of their 
 fetters is frequently, and in a wanton manner, practised amongst 
 some of the worst offenders, as if an amusement, or to show their 
 insensibility to shame. How shocking to see human nature thus in 
 ruins ! Here it is emphatically so, worse than in bedlam, as mad- 
 ness with reason is more dreadful th^ without it.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON, 6l 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Gallant achievements worthy, than the sons 
 
 Of plunder and of rapine here recount 
 
 On peaceful life their devastations wild, 
 
 Their dangers, hair-breadth 'scapes, atrocious feats. 
 
 Confederate, and confederating still 
 
 In schemes of deathful horror ! Who, surpris'd, 
 
 C^ati such effects contemplate, upon minds 
 
 Estrang'd to good : fermenting on the lees 
 
 Of pregnant ill ; associate and combin'd 
 
 In intercourse infernal, restless, direj 
 
 And goading constant each to other's thoughts 
 
 To deeds of desperation, from the tale 
 
 Of vaunted infamy oft told : sad fruit 
 
 Of the mind's vacancy ! And to that mind 
 
 Employment none is offer'd : not an hour 
 
 To secret recollection is assign'd j 
 
 No seasonable sound instruction brought. 
 
 Food for their thoughts, self-gnawing. Not the day 
 
 To rest and duty dedicate, finds here 
 
 Or rest or duty ; revel'd off, tmmark'd ; 
 
 Or like the others undistinguish'd, save 
 
 By riot's roar, and self-consuming sloth !
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public PunUhment. 
 
 For useful occupation none is found. 
 
 Benevolent to employ their listless hands. 
 
 With indolence fatigued ! Thus every day 
 
 Anevi^ they gather Guilt's corrosive rust J 
 
 Each wretched day accumulates fresh ills j 
 
 And horribly advanced flagitious grown 
 
 From faulty, they go forth, tenfold of Hell 
 
 More the devoted children : to the state 
 
 Tenfold more dangerous envenom'd foes 
 
 Than first they enter'd this improving school ! 
 
 So, cag'd and scanty fed, or taught to rage 
 
 By taunting insults, more ferocious burst 
 
 On man the tyger or hyaena race. 
 
 From fell confinement, and with hunger urg'd. 
 
 Gnash their dire fangs, and drench themselves in blood. 
 
 But should the felon fierce, th' abandon'd train. 
 Whose inroads on the human peace forbid. 
 Almost forbid Compassion's mild regard j 
 (Yet ah I what man with fellow-man can fall 
 So low as not to claim soft pity's care !) 
 Should these aught justify the rigid voice. 
 Which to severe confinement's durance dooms
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 3 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Infallible the body and the soul 
 
 To bitterest, surest ruin ; shall we not 
 
 With generous indignation execrate 
 
 The cruel indiscriminating law, 
 
 Which turns misfortune into guilt and curse. 
 
 And .with the felon harden'd in his crimes 
 
 Ranks the poor hapless debtor? ^Debt's not guilt: 
 
 Alas ! the worthiest may incur the stroke 
 
 Of worldly infelicity ! What man. 
 
 How high soe'er he builds his earthly neet, 
 
 Can claim security from fortune's change. 
 
 Or boast him of to-morrow ? Of the East 
 
 Greatest and chief, lo ! humble in the dust. 
 
 Sits. Job, the sport of misery ! Wealthiest late 
 
 Of all blest Araby's most wealthy sons. 
 
 He wants a potsherd now to scrape his wounds ; 
 
 He w^ants a bed to shrowd his tortur'd limbs. 
 
 And only finds a dunghill ! Creditor, 
 
 Would'st thou add sorrows to this sorrowing man 
 
 Tear him from ev'n his dunghill, and confine 
 
 'Midst recreant felons in a British jail ? 
 
 Oh British inhumanity ! Ye climes.
 
 64 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Ye foreign climes ^Be not the truth proclaitn'd 
 Within your streets, nor be it heard or toldj^ 
 Lest ye retort the cruelty we urge. 
 And scorn the boasted mildness of our laws ! 
 
 Blest be the hour, amidst my depth of woe. 
 Amidst this perturbation of my soul, 
 God of my life, I can, I will exult ! 
 Blest be the hour, that to my humble thought 
 Thy spirit, sacred source of every good. 
 Brought the sublime idea, to expand 
 By charity, the angels grace divine. 
 The rude, relentless, iron prison gates. 
 And give the pining debtor to the world. 
 His weeping family and humble home ! 
 Blest be the hour, when, heedful to my voice. 
 Bearing the prisoners sad sighs to their ears, . 
 Thousands with soft commiseration touch'd. 
 Delighted to go forth, and visit glad 
 Those prisoners in their woe, and set them free ! 
 
 God of the merciful ! thou hast announc'd 
 On mercy, thy first, dearest attribute. 
 Chosen beatitude. Oh pour the dew.
 
 THOUGHTS IM PRISON. 63 
 
 PubHc Punishment. 
 
 The fostering dew of mercy on their gifts, 
 
 Their rich donations grateful ! May the prayers 
 
 Of those enfranchis'd by their bounteous zeal 
 
 Arise propitious for them ! and, when hers'd 
 
 Ia death's cold arms this hapless frame shall lie^ 
 
 ^The generous tear, perchance, not quite withheld j- 
 
 When friendly memory to reflection brings 
 
 My humble efforts and my mournful fate. 
 
 On stable basis founded, may the work 
 
 Diffuse its good through ages ! nor withhold 
 
 Its rescuing influence, till the hour arrives 
 
 When wants, and debts, and sickness are no more. 
 
 And universal freedom blesseth all ! 
 
 But, till that hour, on reformation's plan. 
 Ye generous sons of sympathy, intent. 
 Boldly stand forth. The cause may well demand. 
 And justify full well your noblest zeal. 
 Religion, policy, your country's good. 
 And Christian pity for the souls of men. 
 To prisons call you ; call to cleanse away 
 The filth of these foul dens ; to purge from guilt. 
 And turn them to morality's fair school.
 
 66 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment 
 
 Nor deem impossible the great attempt, 
 Augaean though it seem; yet not beyond 
 The strength of those, that, like Alcides, aim 
 High to be rank'd amidst the godUke few. 
 Who shine eternal on fame's amplest roll : 
 Honour'd with titles, far beyond the first 
 Which proudest monarchs of the globe can give j 
 ** Saviours and benefactors of mankind 1 " 
 
 Hail, generous Hanway! To thy noble plan. 
 Sage, sympathetic *, let the muse subscribe. 
 Rejoicing ! In the kind pursuit, good luck 
 She wisheth thee, and honour. Could her strain 
 Embellish aught, or aught assist thy toils 
 Benevolent, 'twould cheer her lonely hours. 
 And make the dungeon smile. But toils like thine 
 Need no embellishment ; need not the aid 
 Of muse or feeble verse. Reason-approv'd 
 And charity-sustain'd, firm will they stand. 
 
 *See Mr. Han way's ptunphiet, intitled, "Solitude In Im- 
 priaMHuent."
 
 tHOUGHTS IN PRISON. 67 
 
 Public Puiushmeut 
 
 Under his sanction, who on mercy's works 
 
 E'er looks complacent ; and his sons on earth. 
 
 His chosen sons, with angel-zeal inspires 
 
 To plan and to support. And thine well-plann'd. 
 
 Shall be supported. Pity for thy brow. 
 
 With policy the sage, shall shortly twine 
 
 The garland, worthier far than that of oak. 
 
 So fam'd in ancient Rome the meed of him 
 
 Who sav'd a single citizen. More bless'd 
 
 Religion mild, with gentle mercy join'd. 
 
 Shall hail thee for the citizens, the souls 
 
 Innumerous restor'd to God, the state. 
 
 Themselves, and social life, by solitude. 
 
 Devotion's parent. Recollection's nurse. 
 
 Source of repentance true ; of the mind's wounds 
 
 The deepest prober, but the safest cure ! 
 
 Hail, sacred solitude ! These are thy works. 
 
 True source of good supreme ! Thy blest effects 
 
 Already on my mind's delighted eye 
 
 Vide Taylor's Holy Living arid Dying, Part II. p. 4?.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Open beneficent. Ev'n now I view 
 Tlie revel-rout dispers'd ; each to his cell 
 Admitted, silent ! The obstreperous cries 
 Worse than infernal yells ! the clank of chains- 
 Opprobrious chains, to man severe disgrace, 
 Hush'd in calm order, vex the ears no more J 
 While, in their stead, reflection's deep-drawn sighs, 
 And prayers of humble penitence are. heard. 
 To heaven well-pleasing, in soft whispers round T 
 No more, 'midst wanton idleness the hours 
 Drag wearisome and slow : kind industry 
 Gives wings and weight to every moment's speed ; 
 Each minute marking with a golden thread. 
 Of moral profit. Harden'd vice no more 
 Commtmicates its poison to the souls 
 Of young associates, nor diffuses wide 
 A pestilential taint. Still thought pervades 
 The inmost heart: instruction aids the thought j 
 And blest religion, with life-giving ray. 
 Shines on the mind sequester'd in its gloom ; 
 Disclosing glad the golden gates, through which 
 Repentance, led by faith, may tread the courts
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 69 
 
 Public Pinusbment 
 
 Of peace and reformation ! Cheer'd and chang'd, ' 
 His happy days of quarantine perform'd 
 Lo, from his solitude the captive comes 
 New-bom, and opes once more his grateful eyes 
 On day, on life, on man, a fellow-man ! 
 
 Hail sacred solitude ! from thee alone 
 Flow these high blessings. Nor be't deem'd severe^ 
 Such sequestration ; destin'd to retrieve 
 The mental lapse ; and to its powers restore 
 The Heaven-born soul, encrusted with foul guilt s 
 Tis tenderest mercy, 'tis humanity ' 
 Yearning with kindliest softness ; while her arm ' 
 From ruin plucks, effectuates the release. 
 And gives a ransom'd man to earth to Heaven ! 
 
 To the sick patient, struggling in the jaws 
 Of obstinate disease, e'er knew we yet 
 Grateful and pleasing from physician's hand 
 The rough, but salutary draught ? For that 
 Do we withhold the draught? and, falsely kindl. 
 Hang sighing o'er our friend, allow'd to toss 
 On the hot fever's bed, rave on and die^ 
 Uiunedicin'd, unreliev'd ? But sages, say.
 
 70 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Where is the medicine ? Who will prescribe a cure. 
 Or adequate to this corroding ill. 
 Or in its operation milder found ? 
 
 See on old Thames's waves indignant ride. 
 In sullen terror, yonder sable bark. 
 By state physicians lately launch'd, and hight 
 Justitia * ! Dove-eyed Pity, if thou dmst. 
 That bark ascend with rae, and kt us learn 
 How, temper'd "with her sister Mercy, there 
 Reigns justice ; and, effective to the ill 
 Inveterate grown, her lenient aid supplies. 
 
 And rolls this bark on Thames's generous flood 
 Flood that wafts fmedom, wafts the high-bom sons 
 Of gallant liberty to every land ? 
 See the chain'd Britons, fetter'd man by man ! 
 See in the stifled hold excluded whence 
 
 * The Author seems chiefly to have formed liis idea of ti 
 
 mode of treating convicts on the Thames, from a late pampbk 
 
 published by Dr. Smith : But we are informed that the evils he. 
 
 compldned of have been ah-eadj, in a great measure^ and vre trt 
 
 will soon be wholly removed.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 71 
 
 Public PuniithnieDt 
 
 Man's common blessing, air, ne'er freely breather 
 
 They mingle, crowded I To our pamper'd steeds 
 
 Inferior how in lodging ! Tainted food 
 
 And poison'd fumes their life-springs stagnate ranik j 
 
 They reel aloft for breath : their tottering limbs 
 
 Bend weak beneath the burden of a frame 
 
 Corrupted, burning ; with blue feverous spots 
 
 Contagious ; and unequal to the toil, 
 
 Urg'd by task-masters, vehement, severe. 
 
 On the chill sand bank ! ^by despair and pain 
 
 Worn down and wearied, some their being curse, 
 
 And die, devoting to destruction's rage 
 
 Society's whole race detested ! Some, 
 
 More mild, gasp out in agonies of soul 
 
 Their loath'd existence ; which nor physic's aid. 
 
 Nor sweet religion's interposing smile. 
 
 Sooths with one ray of comfort ! Gracious God ! 
 
 And this is mercy! ^Thus, from sentenced death, 
 
 Britons in pity respite, to restore 
 
 And moraUze mankind ! Correction this. 
 
 Just Heaven, designed for reformation's end! 
 
 Ye slaves, that bred in tyranny's domain*
 
 72 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Toil at the galleys, how supremely blest. 
 How exquisite your lot, (so much deplor'd 
 By haughty sons of freedom) to the fate 
 Experienc'd hourly by her free-born sons. 
 In our Britannia's vaunted residence * ; 
 Sole, chosen residence of faith refin'd. 
 And genuine liberty ! Ye senators. 
 Ye venerable sages of the law. 
 In just resentment for your country's fame. 
 Wipe off this contradictory reproach 
 To manners, and to policy like yours I 
 Correct, but to amend : 'Tis God's own plan. 
 Correct, but to reform 5 then give to meu 
 The means of reformation : Then, restor'd 
 To recollection, to himself, to God, 
 
 * There is a thought in Lucan to the same purpose, elegantly 
 
 expressed. 
 
 ^ " Felices Arabes, Medique, Eoaque Tellus, 
 " Quam sub perpetuis tenuerunt fata tyrannis. 
 " Ex populis, qui regna ferunt, Sors ultima nostra est, 
 ^' Quos servire pudet." Pharsat. Lib. 7.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. ^ 7^ 
 
 Public Punuhment 
 
 The criminal will bless your saving hand j 
 And brought to reason, to religion brought. 
 Will own that solitude, as solely apt 
 For work so tsolemn, has that work achiev'd. 
 Miraculous, and perfect of his cure. 
 
 Ah me ! to sentiments like these estrang'd, 
 lstrang'd as ignorant, and never pent 
 Till this sad chance within a prison's wall. 
 With what deep force, experienc'd, can I urge 
 The truths momentous ! How their power I feel 
 In this my solitude, in this lone hour. 
 This melancholy midnight hour of thought, 
 Encircled with the unhappy ! firmly clos'd 
 Each barricadoed door, and left, just God, 
 Oh blessing left to pensiveness and Thee ! 
 
 To me how high a blessing ! nor contains 
 Seclusion aught of punishment ; to mix 
 With wretches here were punishment indeed ! 
 How dread a punishment ! In life's best days. 
 Of all most chosen, valued and belov'd. 
 Was soft retirement's season. From youth's dawn 
 To solitude inur'd, " ne'er Jess alone 
 
 B
 
 74 THOUGHTS IN PRISON, 
 
 Public Punkhment, 
 
 ** Than when alone," with him so truly fam'd 
 
 In wisdom's school, my heart could ever beat 
 
 Glad unison. To meditation's charms, 
 
 Pleaa'd votary, how have passed my sweetest hoiui 
 
 In her secrete and calm society ! 
 
 Still Meditation, Solitude's fair child, 
 
 Man's dearest friend, Oh, happy be the time 
 
 That introduc'd me to thy hallow'd train ; 
 
 That taught me through thy genial lessons sage 
 
 My best, my truest dignity to place 
 
 In thought, reflection deep, and studious search, 
 
 Divinest recreations of the mind ! 
 
 Oh, happy be the day which gave that mind 
 
 Learning's first tincture blest thy fostering care. 
 
 Thou most belov'd of parents, worthiest sire ! 
 
 Which, taste-inspiring, made the letter'd page 
 
 My favourite companion : most esteem'd 
 
 And most improving ! Almost from the day 
 
 Of earliest childhood to the present iwrar. 
 
 Of gloomy, black misfortvme, books, dear books. 
 
 Have been, and are, my comforts : Mora and night. 
 
 Adversity, prosperity, at home.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 75 
 
 Pnblic Punishment. 
 
 Abroad, health, sickness, good or ill report, 
 Tlie same firm friends ; the same refreshment rich. 
 And source of consolation ! Nay, ev'en here 
 Their magic power they losenot : still the same. 
 Of matchless influence in this prison-house. 
 Unutterably horrid ; in an hour 
 Of woe, beyond all fancy's fictions drear. 
 
 Drear hour ! What is it ! 'Lost-in poignant thought. 
 Lost in the retrospection manifold 
 Of thee, lov'd study, and of thee, my sire. 
 Who, to the fountain fair of Science led 
 My infant feet, I lose all count of time, 
 I lose m3rself. List ! 'tis dread midnight's hour. 
 When waking fancy with invention '*v*ild 
 (By ages hallow'd) hath to spirits iEissign'd 
 Spirits of dear departed friends to walk 
 The silent gloom, and bring us from thie dead 
 Tales harrowing up the soul aghast ! And, hark ! 
 Solemn and slow the iron tongue of night 
 Resounds alarming ! My o'er-harass'd soul 
 Confos'd, is lost in sorrows ; down mine eyes 
 
 R2
 
 76 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Stream the full tears, distress is all alive. 
 And quick imagination's pulse beats high. 
 
 ** Dear father, is it thou?" Methought his gho3\ 
 Glided in silence by me ! Not a word, 
 While mournfully he shakes his dear pale face ! 
 
 stay, thou much-lov'd parent ! stay, and give 
 One word of consolation J ifallow'd 
 
 To son, like whom no son hath ever lov'd. 
 None ever suffer'd ! See, it comes again : 
 August it flits across th' astonish'd room I 
 
 1 know thee well, thy beauteous image know : 
 Dear spirit stay, and take me to the world 
 
 Where thou art. And where thou art, oh my father, 
 
 I must, I must be happy. ^Every day 
 
 Thou know'st, remembrance hath embalm'd thy love. 
 
 And wish'd thy presence. Melancholy thought. 
 
 At last to meet thee in a place like this ! 
 
 Oh stay jind waft me instant ^But, 'tis gone. 
 
 The dear delusion ! He nor hears my words. 
 
 My filial anxiety, nor regards 
 
 My pleading tears. 'Twas but a coinage vaii\
 
 tHOUCHTS IN PRISON. 77 
 
 Pabiic Puiushipent. 
 
 Of the distemper'd fancy ! Gone, 'tis gonfc. 
 And here I'm left a trembling wretch to weep 
 Unheard, unpitied left, to weep alone ! 
 
 Nor thou, Maria, with me ! Oh, my wife. 
 And is this bitter with the bitterest mix'd. 
 That I mst lose thy heavenly company. 
 And consolation soothing ! Yet, 'tis best : 
 Thy tenderness, thy presence, doth but wound 
 And stab to the keenest quick my bursting heart ! 
 * I have undone thee ! " Can I then sustain P 
 Thy killing aspect, and that tender tear 
 Which secret steals adown thy lovely face. 
 Dissembling smiles to cheer me cheer me. Heavens ! 
 Look on the mighty ruin I have pluck'd, 
 Pluck'd instant, unsuspected, in the hour 
 Of peace and dear security on her head ! 
 And where O where can cheerfidness be found ? 
 Mine must be mourning ever. Oh, my wife, 
 *' I have undone thee ! " What th' infuriate hand 
 Of foes vindictive could not have achiev'd. 
 In mercy would not, I have wrought ! Thy husband ! 
 Thy husband, lov'd with $uch imshaken truth.
 
 79 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Thy husband, lov'd with such a steady flame. 
 
 From youth's first hour ! ^Eveti he hath on thee pluck 'd. 
 
 On thee, his soul's companion, life's best friend. 
 
 Such desolation, as to view would draw 
 
 From the wild savage pity's deepest groan ! 
 
 Yes, yes, thou coward mimic, pamper'd vice. 
 High praise be sure is thine. Thou hast obtain'd 
 A worthy triumph * ! Thou hast pierc'd to the quick 
 A weak, an amiable female heart, 
 A conjugal heart most faithful, most attach'd : 
 Yet can I pardon thee ; for poor buffoon. 
 Thy vices must be fed ; and thou must live. 
 Luxurious live, a foe to God and man ; 
 Commission'd livej thy poison to difRise, 
 And taint the public virtue with thy crimes. 
 Yes, I can pardon thee low as thou art. 
 And far too mean an object ev'n of scorn j 
 For thou her merits knew'st not. Hadst thou known. 
 
 Alluding to the character of Mrs. Simmiy, introduced bv 
 Mr. Foote in his play of The Coaeoecs.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 79 
 
 Public Punishment. 
 
 Thou, callous as thou art to every sense 
 
 Of human feeling, every nobler touch 
 
 Of generous sensibility, even thou 
 
 Could'st not have wanton picrc'd her gentle breast j 
 
 But at a distance awful woulds't have stood. 
 
 And, like thy prototype of oldest time, 
 
 View'd her just virtues pass in tnumph by. 
 
 And own'd, howe'er relucunt 
 
 Mareft 30, 1777. 
 
 SND OF THE THIRD WEEK.
 
 THOUGHTS. IN PRISON; 
 
 WEEK THE FOURTH. 
 
 THE TRIAL. 
 
 Dread'st thou an earthly bar ? Thou who so oft 
 In contemplation serious hast employ'd 
 Thy dearest meditation's on a bar 
 Tremendously decisive ! who so oft 
 That bar's important terrors hast display'd 
 To crowds attentive ; with the solemn theme 
 Rapt in thought profound ^And beats thy heart 
 With throbs tumultuous fail thy trembling knees. 
 Now that in judgment thou must stand before 
 Weak mortals, like thyself, and soon like thee. 
 Shivering with guilt and apprehensions dire, 
 . To answer in dread^judgment 'fore their God ?
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 81 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 What gives that judgment terror ? Gruilt, pale guilt ; 
 
 Conscience accusing stern ; the fiery law. 
 
 The terrible hand-writing on the wall ! 
 
 But vanish these, that mighty Day's-man found. 
 
 Who, smiling on confession's genuine tear, 
 
 Tlie meek repentant aspect, and the hand 
 
 With ready, perfect retribution fraught. 
 
 Urges complete his ransom, and sets free 
 
 Th' immortal prisoner. ^But, ah me ! on earth 
 
 Such golden mercy reigns not : here is found 
 
 No potent Day's-man ; here no ransom full. 
 
 No clement mediator. Here stern law. 
 
 With visage all-unbending, eyes alone 
 
 The rigorous act. Confession here is guilt. 
 
 And restitution perfect, perfect loss ! 
 
 Ah me the while, here men the judges are j 
 
 And there, th' Omniscient mercy's source and stream I 
 
 Triumphant consolation ! Firm in faith. 
 
 And justify'd by him whose precious blood 
 
 For man flow'd liberal, the soul secure 
 
 Of future acceptation at that bar 
 
 E b
 
 S3 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial 
 
 Of trial most momentous, soars above 
 The world's severest trials*, and can view 
 
 The verses subjoined were written by the l^jng of Prussia, 
 after a defeat, when one of his general officers l^^d proposed to set 
 him the example of self-destruction : 
 
 Dans ces jours, pleine d'alarmes 
 
 La Constance et la fermete ~/ 
 
 Sent les boucliers et les armes 
 
 Que j'oppose a i'advers^e : 
 
 Que le DestiAni^, peisecqt^ 
 Qu'il prepare ou hate ma chute, 
 
 Le danger ne pent m'ebranler : 
 Quand le vulgaire est plein de crainte, 
 Que I'esperauce semple eteinte, 
 
 L'homme fort doit le signaler. 
 
 A friend having given Dr. Dodd in prison a copy of the 
 lines, he was much pleased with them, and immediately para- 
 phrased them as follows : 
 
 In these sad moments of severe distress. 
 
 When dangers threaten, and when sorrows press, 
 
 For my defence, behold what arms are given 
 
 Firmness of soul, and confidence in Heaven ! 
 
 With these, though fortune hunt me through the laud, 
 
 lliough instant, utter ruin seem at hand,
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRiaON. 83 
 
 The Trial 
 
 Serene the horrors of an earthly bar, 
 
 Though far than death more horrid. Yes, kind death. 
 
 How preferable far thy sight to me ! 
 
 Oh that, without tliis tedious, dread detail 
 
 Of awful circumstance, this long, sad jwmp 
 
 Of ministering wretchedness, thy friendly shaft 
 
 Had instant reach'd, and pierc'd my tortur'd heart ; 
 
 How had I blest the stroke, and been at peace ! 
 
 But through a dreary avenue of woe, 
 
 A lengthen'd vault of black distress and shame. 
 
 With mournful, melancholy sable hung. 
 
 Must I be led *, or ere I can receive 
 
 Thine icy comforts to my cliill'd life's blood 1 
 
 Compos'd and self-cdlected I remmn, 
 
 Nor start at perils, nor of ills complaui. 
 
 To mean despair the low, the servile fly, 
 
 When Hope's bright star seems darken'd In their sly : 
 
 Then shines the Christian, and delights to prove 
 
 His faith unshaken, aiid unchang'd his love ! 
 
 * Segm'us Irritant aaimos demissa per aureni, 
 Quam quae sunt occulis subjecta tldelibuJ, et quse 
 Ipse sibi tradit Spcctatof ? 
 
 HOR,
 
 84 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 > 
 Welcome, thrice welcome were they ; but the call 
 
 Of Heaven's dread arbiter we wait : His will 
 
 Is rectitude consummate. 'Tis the will 
 
 Parental of high wisdom and pure love. 
 
 Then to that will submissive bend, my soul : 
 
 And, while meek resignation to the rod 
 
 Corrective of his justice and his love 
 
 Obedient bows, Oh for impartial search ! 
 
 Oh for a trial strict, to trace the cause. 
 
 The fatal cause whence spnmg the ill deplor'd ! 
 
 And why sad spectacle of woe ^vve stand ?||^ 
 
 Thus, sin and sorrow sunk, at this dread bar ! 
 
 Return, blest hours ^ye peaceful days, return ! 
 When through each office of celestial love 
 Ennobling piety my glad feet led 
 Continual, and my head each night to rest 
 LuU'd on the downy pillow of content ! 
 Dear were thy shades, O Ham, and dear the hours 
 In manly musing 'midst thy forests pass'd. 
 And antique woods of sober solitude. 
 Oh Epping, witness to my lonely walks 
 By Heavctwlirectcd contemplation led I
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 85 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Ye days of duty, tranquil nights, return ! 
 How ill exchang'd for those, which busier scenes 
 To the world's foIUes dedicate, engross'd 
 In specious trifling! all-important deem'd. 
 While guilt, O Chesterfield, with seeming gold 
 Of prime refinement, through thy fostering smile. 
 And patronage auspicious ! 
 
 Sought by thee, 
 And singled out, unpatronis'd, unknown ; 
 By thee, whose taste consummate was applaiise. 
 Whose ^probation merit ; forth I came. 
 And with me to the task, delighted, brought 
 The upright purpose, the intention firm 
 To fill the charge, to justify the choice. 
 Perchance too flattering to my heart ; a heart 
 Frank, inexpert, uuhackney'd in the world. 
 And yt estranged to guile ! But ye, more skill'd 
 In that world's artful style, judges severe; 
 Say, in the zenith of bright Stanhope's sun, 
 (Though set that sun, alas, in misty clouds !) 
 Say, 'midst his lustre, whom would not that choice 
 Have flatter'd ? and still more, when urg'd, approvd.
 
 86 THOUGHTS IN PRISON, 
 
 The Trial, 
 
 And bless'd by thee, St. David's ! honour'd friend j 
 Alike in wisdom's and in learning's school 
 Advanc'd and sage ! Short pause, my muse, and sad, 
 Allow, while leaning on Afiection's arm 
 Deep-sighing Gratitude, with tears of truth. 
 Bedews the urn, the happy urn, where rest 
 Mingled thy ashes, oh my friend, and her's. 
 Whose life bound up with thine in amity 
 Indissolubly firm, felt thy last pang 
 Disrupting as her own ! gently sigh'd forth 
 The precious boon ! while sprung her faithful son]. 
 Indignant without thee to rest below. 
 On wings of love, to meet thee in the skies! 
 
 Blest pair, and envied ! Envied and embalm'd 
 In our recording memory, my wife. 
 My friend, my lov'd Maria, be our lot 
 Like theirs ! But soft, ah my foreboding thoughts ! 
 Repress the gushing tear j return my song. 
 
 Plac'd thus, and shelter'd underneath a tree. 
 Which seem'd like that in visions of the night 
 To Babylonia's haughty prince pourtray'd. 
 Whose height reach'd Heav'n, and whose verdant boughs
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON, 97 
 
 Tl Trial. 
 
 Extended wide thqir succouiir aD4 thek shade, 
 
 How did I tn^, too confident 1 how d.ra^ 
 
 That fortune's smiles were miftc ! and liow deceiv'd. 
 
 By gradual declension yield my trvtst^ 
 
 My humble happy trust on, Theej my Qod ! 
 
 How ill-exchang'd for- confidetvfe in man. 
 
 In Chesterfields, in princes ! Wider scenes^,. 
 
 Alps still on Alps were open'd to my view j 
 
 And, as the circle in thj? ftpod enlaiig'd, 
 
 Enlarg'd expences call. Fed to the fu4 
 
 With flattwy's light fpod *x ^d the pu^'<) wiiid 
 
 Of promises dekisiv c , ,- " Onw^^d ^till, 
 
 " Press onward," cried the world's alluring voice ; ^ 
 
 * The time of retrij^utioQ is at hand : 
 
 " Sec he ripe vimage waits thee." Fool and blind. 
 
 * So prajsen babes, the peacock's starry traine. 
 And wondrcn at bright Argus' blazing eye ; 
 But who rewards him e'or the more for thy ? 
 Or feeds hiflj once the fuller by a graine ? 
 Sikc praise is smoke that sheddeth in the skie, 
 Sike words been winde, and wasten soon in vaiiic. 
 
 Sr>SR.
 
 83 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Still credulous I heard, and still pursued 
 
 The airy meteor glittering through the mire. 
 
 Through brake and bog, till more and more engulf'd 
 
 In the deceitful quag, floundering I lay. 
 
 Nor heard was then the world's alluring voice. 
 
 Or promises delusive : then not seen 
 
 The tree umbrageous, with its ample shade : 
 
 For me, alas, that tree had shade no more ! 
 
 But stru^ling in the gulf, my languid eye 
 
 Saw only round the barren rushy moor. 
 
 The flat, wide dreary desert, till a hope, ^iM 
 
 Dress'd by the tempter in an angel's form^ 
 
 Presenting its fair hand ^imagin'd fair. 
 
 Though foul as murkiest hell, to drag me forth, 
 
 Down to the centre plung'd me, dark and dire 
 
 Of howling ruin; bottomless abyss 
 
 Of desolating shame, and nameless woe! 
 
 But, witness Heaven and earth, 'midst this brief stage. 
 This blasting period of my chequer'd life, 
 Though by the world's gay vanities allur'd, 
 I danc'd, too oft, alas, with the wild route 
 Of thoughtless fellow-mortals, to the soimd
 
 t rtOUGHTS IN PRISON. t9 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Of folly's tinkling bells ; though oft, too oft, 
 
 Those pastimes shar'd enen'ating, which ill 
 
 Howe'er by some judg'd innocent become 
 
 Religion's sober character and garb ; 
 
 Though oft, too oft, by weak compliance led> 
 
 External seemings, and the ruinous bait 
 
 Of smooth politeness ; what my heart condemn'd 
 
 Unwise it practis'd ; never without pang ; 
 
 Though too much influenc'd by the pleasing force 
 
 Of native generosity, uncurb'd 
 
 And unchM^s'd (as reason, duty taught) 
 
 Prudent economy, in thy sober school 
 
 Of parsimonious lecture ; useful lore. 
 
 And of prime moment to our worldly weal j 
 
 ^Yet witness heaven and earth, amidst this dream. 
 
 This transient vision, ne'er so slept my soul. 
 
 Or sacrific'd my hands at folly's shrine. 
 
 As to forget Religion's public toil. 
 
 Study's improvement, or the pleading cause 
 
 Of suffering humanity. Gracious God, 
 
 How wonderful a compound, mixture strange. 
 
 Incongruous, inconsistent, is frail man!
 
 go THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Yes, my lov'd Charlotte, whose top-stone with joy 
 My careful hands brought forth, what time expell'd 
 From Ham's lost paradise, and driy'n to seek 
 Another place of rest? Yes, beauteous fane, 
 To bright Religion dedicate, thou well 
 My happy public labours canst attest. 
 Unwearied and successful in the cause. 
 The glorious, honour'd cause of Him, whose love 
 Bled for the human race : Thou canst attest 
 The Sabbath-days delightful, when the throng 
 Crowded thy hallow'd walls with eager joy, ^ 
 T?o hear truth evangelical, the sound 
 Of gospel comfort ! When attentive sat. 
 Or at the holy altar humbly knelt. 
 Persuasive, pleasing patterns Athol's Duke, 
 The polish'd Hervey, Kingston the humane, 
 Aylesbury and Marchmont, Romney all-rever'd j 
 With numbers more by splendid titles less 
 Than piety distinguish'd and pure zeal. 
 
 Nor 'midst this public duty's blest discharge, 
 Pass'd idle, tmi^proving, unexuploy'd.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PiUSQN, ai 
 
 The TriaJ. 
 
 My other daysj as if the Sabbath's task 
 Fulfill'd, the biisiness of the week was done. 
 Or self-allow 'd. Witness, thrice holy book. 
 Pure transcript of th' Eternal Will to Man 3 
 Witness with what assiduous care I tum'd 
 Daily thy hallow'd page j with what deep search 
 Explored thy sacred meaning ; through the round 
 Of learn'd expositors and grave, trod slow. 
 And painfully deliberating j the while 
 My labours unremitting to the world 
 Convey'd uutruction Large ; and shall conv^. 
 When moulders in the grave the feeble hand. 
 The head, the heart, that ga.ve those, labours *- birth. 
 
 Oh happy toil, oh labours well employ-d, 
 Oh sweet remembrance to my sickening soul, 
 Blest volumes ! Nor though levell'd in the dust 
 Of self-annihilation, shall my soul 
 Cease to rejoice, or thy preventive grace 
 
 * Alluding to " Commentary on the Bible," in three volumes 
 folio.
 
 &2 THOUGHTS IN ' PMISOM. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Adoring laud. Fountain of every good ! 
 For that no letter'd poison ever stain'd 
 My page, how vreak soe'er ; for that my pen. 
 However humble, ne'er has trac'd a line 
 Of tendency immdral, whose black giiilt 
 It well might wish to blot with tears of blood : 
 bear to the Christian shall my little works, 
 ^Effusions of a heart sincere, devote 
 To God and duty, happily survive 
 Their wretched master ; and thro' lengthcn'd years 
 To souls opprest, comfort's sweet balm impa^|j^ 
 And teach the pensive mourner how to die *. 
 Thou too, blest Charity, whose golden key 
 So liberal unlocks the prison's gate 
 At the poor debtor's call ; oh, w^itness thou. 
 To cruel taxers of my time and thought. 
 All was not lost, all were not misemploy'd. 
 Nor all humanity's fair rights forgot ; 
 
 * Referring to " Comfort for tlie Afflicted," and " Reflections 
 o Death."
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 93 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Since ihou, spontaneous effort of the last. 
 My pity's child, and by the first matur'd. 
 Amidst this flattering, fatal era, rose ; 
 Rose into being, to perfection rose. 
 Beneath my humble fostering ; and at length 
 Grown into public favour, thou shalt live. 
 And endless good diffuse, when sleeps in dust 
 Thy hapless founder, now, by direst fate, 
 Lock'd in a prison, whence thy bounty sets. 
 And shall oh comfort long set thousands free. 
 
 Happy, dirice happy, had my active zeal, 
 Already deem'd too active, chance, by some. 
 Whose frozen hearts, in icy fetters bound 
 Of sordid selfishness, ne'er felt the warmth. 
 The genial warmth of pure benevolence. 
 Love's ardent flame aspiring; had that flame 
 Kindled my glowing zeal into effect, 
 ^d to thy counterpart* existence giv'n. 
 
 ' He mtcnded to have established a " Charity for the Loan of 
 Money, without interest, to industrious tradcsnaen." Necessary 
 pnpfrs ff that epd vere collected from Dublin, &c.j and the fol-
 
 94 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Lov'd institution ; with its guardian aid 
 Protecting from the prison's ruinows doors. 
 
 lowing address, which he wrote, and inserted in the Public Ledger 
 of the 1st January 1776, will in some measure explain his purpose : 
 
 To the Weakky in the Commercial World. 
 
 I HA VI often widicd fteont steeeftly to "Sfce * ^arftable fuad 
 established in this great and tradir^ city, for the beneficent pur- 
 pose of " lending to honest and industrious tradesmen small sums 
 without interest, and on a reasonable security." 
 
 The benefits which would arise from such an establishment are 
 too obvious to need enumeration. Almost every newspaper tends 
 more and more to convince me of the necessity of such a plan ; for 
 in almost every newspaper we read advertisements from tradesmen, 
 soliciting little Sbms in their distress, and offering poor unhappy 
 men! even premiums for those little sums. 
 
 It is not possible but that persons occupied in trade and com- 
 merce must feel for the difficulties of their brethren, and be ready 
 to promote the undertaking I would wish to recommend, although 
 on no interested motives; for I am no tradesman, nor can any way 
 be benefited by the plan. Pure good will, and a compassionate 
 respect to the hardships and distresses of my fellow-creatures, 
 actuate my heart : and from these motives I shall be happy to 
 proceed upon, and prosecute this plan, with all the efforts and 
 assiduity I am able, if it shall be approved by the benevolent ; and 
 they will testify that approbation, and desire of concurrence, by a
 
 THOUGHTS IN l*RISON. 95 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Those whom thy kindly mercy rescues thence! 
 Or, had that zeal on firm foundation irx'd 
 Like thine my favourite Magdalen,-ii-the plan. 
 Preservative of tender female fame*. 
 
 line directed to D. at Anderson's Coffee-house, Fleet-street. In 
 consequence of which, should a probability of success appear, a 
 meeting shall speedily be advertised in the papers, and all mca* 
 surcs pursued to put the good design into immediate execution, 
 %vhich on such a meeting may be judged advisable. It may be 
 }>roper just to observe, that in many cities abroad, at Rome ia 
 particular, there are institutions of this sort ; and there has been 
 one established for many years at Dublin, which is found produc- 
 tive of the happiest consequences. 
 
 It is made in Scripture one characteristic of the good man, 
 " that he b mercifni, and iendetfa ;" and a very smaU sum, thus 
 given to a pennanent establishment, may enable a man to lend for 
 perpetuity ! 
 
 How can we better begin the ncW year, toy worthy and Hu- 
 mane countrymen, than by entering on a work which may draw 
 down upon us God's blessing, by our charitable relief to many sons 
 and daughters of honest and laborious industry ? 
 
 HUMANITY. 
 " A plan for a N8ti<ia] Female Seminary" since found 
 amongst the Author's papers ; and which appears to have under- 
 gone the inspection, and received the approbation, of some very 
 distinguished manes.
 
 96 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Fair innocence and virtue, froni those ills 
 Destructive, complicate, which only find 
 Relief beneath thy hospitable roof j 
 How had 1 died exulting ! ^But, oh raise. 
 Inspire some godlike spirit, some great soul, 
 "Father of mercies, of all love, all good. 
 Author and finisher j these and every work 
 Beneficent, with courage to pxirsue. 
 With wisdom to complete ! Oh crown his zeal ; 
 While sorrovidng human nature, by his hand 
 Cherish'd and sooth'd, to latest times shall tell. 
 And bless with tears of gratitude his name. 
 
 Mine is a different fate,->-confess'd, just Judge, 
 The meed of human mixture in my works 
 Imperfect, frail ; and needing, even the best. 
 Thy pardon and the cleansing of thy blood ; 
 Else whence the frequent retributions base. 
 Calumnious and ungrateful, for the deeds 
 Of private pity ! Whence, for public acts. 
 The stab opprobrious, and the slanders vile ! 
 Or whence, at this dread moment, from the sight 
 Shrowd me in tenfold darkness ! Mercy, Heaven I
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 97 
 
 The Trial. ^ 
 
 And is it He th' ingenuous youth, so loft 
 Of all my being, fortune, comfort deem'd 
 The generous, ample source ? ^And is it He, 
 In whom, through dread misfortune's darkest night, 
 I saw Hope's day-star rising ? ^Angel of peace. 
 Amidst his future hours, my life's sad loss. 
 Let not accusing conscience to his charge 
 Impute, distracting to my crimson guilt. 
 Oh let him lay it, as the forfeit due. 
 And justly paid ! Would Heaven that it were paid ! 
 Oh, that with Rome's first Caesar, in my robe 
 From sight so killing, mantled up mine eyes, 
 I might receive the welcome stab ; sigh forth, 
 " My Philip, my lov'd Stanhope, Is it thou ? 
 *' Then let me die."" 
 
 Yet, though thus wounded at this bar I stand 
 In pains unutterable, witness Heaven, 
 With deep commiseration do I view 
 Their sedulous anxiety to prove 
 A guilt my heart too wounded to deny. 
 Wounded by that guilt's sense, its bitterest part. 
 Instant avow'd. What ned then all this toil ?
 
 98 THOUGHTS IN PRISON; 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 The deed is done. Wound not the fall'n hart, 
 'Tis cruel that lies bleeding at your feet : 
 
 * I own the whole ; I urge no legal pica. 
 
 * On dire necessity's imperious call, 
 
 * (Sons of the robe, of commerce, sons of men, 
 
 * That call imperious have you never heard ;) 
 
 * On full intention to repay the whole j 
 
 * And on that full intention's perfect work, 
 
 * Free restoration and complete ; on wrong 
 
 * Or injury to none design'd or wrought, 
 
 * I rest my claim ; I found my sole defence.* 
 
 *' Groundless, 'tis thunder in my ears and weak : 
 
 ** For in the rigid courts of human law, 
 
 * Nor restitution wipes away th' offence, 
 
 " Nor does intention justify." So spoke 
 
 (And who shall argue ?) Judgment's awful voice I 
 
 Haste then, ye weeping jurymen, and pass 
 Th' awarded sentence. To the world, to fame^ 
 To honour, fortune, peace, and Stanhope lost. 
 What have I more to lose ? or can I think 
 Deiith were an evil to a wretch like me ?
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. yt) 
 
 TheTriaL 
 
 Yet, oh ye sons of justice ! re we quit 
 This awful court, expostulation's voice 
 One moment hear impartial. Give a while 
 Your honest hearts to nature's touches true. 
 Her fine resentments faithful ; draw aside 
 That veil from reason's clear reflecting view. 
 Which practice long, and rectitude suppos'<i 
 Of lavirs establish'd, hath obstructive hung^ 
 But pleads, or time, or long prescription aught 
 In favour or abatement of the wrong 
 By folly wrought, or error ? Hoary grown. 
 And sanctify'd by custom's habit gray. 
 Absurdity stalks forth, still more absurd, 
 An<} double shame reflects upon an age 
 Wise and enlighten'd. Should not equal lavys 
 Tlieir punishments proiwrtionate to crimes * j 
 
 * Horace's precept must for ever stand forth vs irreragafaiy 
 just : 
 
 " Adsit 
 
 Regular ! peccatis quae p<nas irroget sequas 
 Ne Scutica d^nuiu horribUi scctere flagello." 
 
 Sat. 3. Lib. 1.
 
 100 ^THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Nor, all Draconic, ev'n to blood pursue 
 
 Vindicate, where the venial poor offence 
 
 Cries loud for mercy ? Death's the last demand 
 
 Law can exact : the penalty extreme 
 
 Of human crime ! and shall the petty thief 
 
 Succumb beneath its terrors, when no more 
 
 Pays the bold murderer, crimson'd o'er with guilt ? 
 
 Few are the crimes against or God or man, 
 Consult th' eternal code of right or wrong 
 Which e'er can justify this last extreme *, 
 This wanton sporting with the human life. 
 This trade in blood. Ye sages, then, review. 
 Speedy and diligent, the penal code. 
 
 * " He had sometimes expressed his thoughts about our penal 
 laws, that they were too sanguinary ; that they were against not 
 only the laws of God, but of nature; that his own case was hard 
 that he should die for an act Which he always declared to be 
 wrong, but by which he never intended to injure any one indi- 
 vidual ; and that, as the public had forgiven him, he thought he 
 might have been pardoned. But now (the ddy before his ex- 
 ecution) he Idd all these thoughts touching himself aside, though 
 he continued to think in the same manner of the penal laws to his 
 end." Hee the Ordinary's account.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. loi 
 
 The Trial 
 
 Humanity's disgrace ; our nation's first 
 
 And just reproach, amidst its vaunted boasts 
 
 Of equity and mercy : Shiver not 
 
 Full oft your inmost souls, when from the bench 
 
 Ye deal out death tremendous ; and proclaim 
 
 Th' irrevocable sentence on a wretch 
 
 Pluck'd early from the paths of social life. 
 
 And immature, to the low grave consign'd 
 
 For misdemeanors trivial ? Runs not back. 
 
 Affrighted, to its fountain, your chill'd blood. 
 
 When deck'd in all the horrid pomp of death. 
 
 And gothic rage surpassing, to the flames 
 
 The weaker sex, incredible you doom ; 
 
 Denouncing punishments the more severe. 
 
 As less of strength is found to bear their force : 
 
 Shame on the savage practice ! Oh stand forth 
 
 In the great cause, Compassion's, Equity's, 
 
 Your Nation's, Truth's, Religion's, Honour's cause, 
 
 Stand forth, reflecting Eden * ! Well thou'st toil'd 
 
 See Mr. Eden's admirabie book on Penal Laws
 
 102 THOUGHI^ IN HIISON. 
 
 The trial. 
 
 Already in the honourable field : 
 Might thy young labours animate, the hour 
 Auspicious is arriv'd. Sages esteem'd. 
 And venerably leam'd", as in the school 
 Of legal science, so in that of worth 
 And sentiment exalted, fill the bench : 
 And lo ! the imperial Muscovite, intent 
 On public weal, a bp^t example shines 
 (>f civilizing justice. Sages, rise : 
 The cause the animating pattern calls. 
 Oh, I adjure you with my parting breath. 
 By all your hopes of mercy and of peace. 
 By all the blood henceforth unjustly spilt. 
 Or wantonly by all the sorrows deep. 
 And scalding tears shed for that blood so spilt ; 
 In God's tremendous name, lo, I adjure. 
 Without procrastinaticm to the task 
 Important that you haste ! With equal hand 
 In scales of temperate justice, balance tvell 
 The claims of pleading mercy ! Unto crimes 
 Inflictions just and adequate assign ; 
 On reformation or example sole.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. \03 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 And all impartial, constantly intent. 
 
 Banish the rage for blood ! for tortures fell 
 
 Savage, reproachful. Study to restore 
 
 Its young, its useful members to the state. 
 
 Well disciplin'd, corrected, moralized ; 
 
 Preserved at once from siiame, from death, from hell. 
 
 Men, rationals, immortals. Sons of Grod; 
 
 Oh prosperous be your labours, crown'd your zeal ! 
 
 So shall the annals of our Sovereign's reign, 
 Distinguish'd by your virtue, noble fruit 
 Of that high independence he bestow'd * 
 So freely from the treasury of his love 
 To genuine justice down to future times. 
 Transmitting the rich blessing, shine renown'd. 
 With truest glory j not by hcr's snrpass'd, 
 Th' immortal Legislator of the North ! 
 
 Ah me unhappy ! to that Sorereign's ear 
 Resolv'd to bring those truths which, labouring long. 
 
 * Referring to the independence of the judges settled by the 
 Xing, as almost one o( the first acts of liis reign.
 
 104 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Have lain and toss'd upon my anxious thoughts * : 
 Thence too am I excluded ! Fatal stroke^ 
 And wounding to my peace ! Rigour extreme 
 Of angry vengeance ! " Nay, it recks not now," 
 (Oft 'midst the tempest of my grief I cried) 
 .** It recks not now what falls me ! From the house 
 " Of him I honour'd, shut ! Him whose lov'd sire 
 *' My muse in strains elegiac weeping sung f, 
 " Mixing her tribute with a nation's tears ! 
 " Him to whose high-bom race, of liberty 
 " Firm friends and fautors, ^from my earliest youth, 
 ** My heart, devoted, willing homage paid, 
 " And sacred reverence : so paternal love 
 " And so my college taught, delightful Clare ! " 
 Dear ever to my memory, for hours 
 In innocence and peaceful study past ; 
 Nor less for thee, my friend, my Lancaster ! 
 
 * See my Sermon on the Injustice, &c. of capital Pumsh- 
 ments. 
 
 t See my " Elegy on the Death of Frederick Prince of Wales." 
 Poems, p. 6S.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. I05 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Blest youth, in early hour from this life's woes 
 In richest mercy borne ! Had I but died. 
 Oh had I died /or thee, how had I shunn'd 
 This harsh severity, exclusion sad ^K^ 
 
 From my lov*d royal master ! how escap'd 
 Its ills attendant ! Reputation dies. 
 The darling of my soul, beneath the stroke ! 
 Wild, wanton curses tear my mangled frame ! 
 My sphere of usefitlness contracted shrinks ; 
 And infamy herself with ** ghastly smiles" 
 My ruin ridicules ! Turn, turn my brain, 
 Distracted, madden'd, turn ! Of reason more. 
 Religion, duty, eminence, dream not: 
 The door of mercy's clos'd. Thee oft from thee, 
 Alwcy, sweet Heaven, have I sovight and found^; 
 From fellow-mortals seldom could I find. 
 How humbled e'er, or penitent for faults ! 
 And who of erring mortals faultless breathes? 
 Mercy, that gift of thine, which most adorns 
 The jui^ge's vestment, and the monarch's crown. 
 
 Adieu then to its hope, its earthly hope j 
 Elsewhere we'll seek it. Forth oh forth, my f/iemls, 
 
 f 5
 
 .106 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 My generous, supporting, weeping friends, 
 Forth from the bar conduct me. It is past, 
 justice has done her office. Mercy's fled ; 
 And smiling, lo ! she sits upon a cloud 
 Of fleecy whiteness, ting'd with azur'd gold^ 
 And beams ineffable composure on me I 
 JLight sits my bosom'd master on his throne j 
 Airy and disencumber'd feels my soul. 
 And, panting, wishes to spring instant wp 
 To that white cloud, the golden vehicle 
 To realms of rest immortal ! In my eyes. 
 So languid late, and all suffiis'd with tears, 
 Methinks I see Hope's lamp rekindled bright ; 
 A living lustre j shedding like the sun 
 After thick mists. Illumination's smile. 
 O'er all my countenance, marr'd, dimm'd, and wan. 
 Cheerly, my friends, oh cheerly ! Look not thus 
 With pity's melting softness ! That alone 
 Can shake my fortitude. All is not lost. 
 Lo ! I have gain'd, on this important day ^ 
 
 A victoiy consummate o'er myself. 
 And o'er this life a ^ ictory. On this day,
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 107 
 
 ITie Trial. 
 
 My birth-day to eternity I've gain'd 
 Dismission from a world, where for a while. 
 Like you, like all, a pilgrim passing poor, ^^ 
 A traveller, a stranger, I have met .^BP 
 
 But stranger tteatment, rude and harsh ! So much 
 The dearer, more desir'd, the home I seek 
 Eternal, of my Father and my God ! 
 
 Ah, little thought ye, prosecutors prompt. 
 To do me good like this ! little intend 
 For earthly poverty to give th' exchange 
 Of wealth eternal. Cheronea's sage. 
 Thy dogmas here, so parodoxal deem'd 
 By weak half-thinkers * see how amply prov'd. 
 How verify'd by men I judg'd my foes ; 
 Friends in disguise. Heaven's instnmients of good ! 
 Freely, triumphantly, my soul forgives 
 Each injury, each evil they have wrought. 
 Each tear they've drawn, each groan they've cost my 
 heart. 
 
 * See Plutarch " On the Benefits deducible from Eneiuifs." 
 Momh, Vol. I.
 
 108 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Guiltless tow'rds them, uninjur'd. Hapless men ! 
 Down do 1 look with pity ; fervent beg. 
 And unremitting from all-gracious Heaven 
 Eternal blessings on you ! Be your lives. 
 Like mine, true convertites to grace, to God ! 
 And be our deaths, ah there all difference ends 
 Then be our deaths like his, th' atoning just ; 
 Like his, the only righteous, our last end ! 
 
 But oh, oblivious memory ! baneful woe, 
 Which thus in dull forgetfulness can steep 
 My faculties ; forgetfulness of her 
 My better self, for whom alone I wish. 
 Thus fallen to remember that I am ! 
 My wife, my soul's dear partner in distress. 
 Where sits she ? lives she ? Ah not lives, but drags 
 The tedious, torturing, horrid anxious hours 
 Of this dire day ! In solemn silence wrapt, 
 ^Expressive silence motionless, compos'd 
 The melancholy mourner meekly waits 
 The awful issue ! From her lovely eyes 
 Drops not a tear ! not ev'n a sigh is he^rd 
 From her deep-wounded heart : Nor through her lips.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 109 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Unsever'd from the luckless mom till night. 
 Mute sufferer, steals a murmur* ! Grentle dove, 
 So, in the mournful absence of thy mate, 
 Perhaps or levell'd by the fowler's art. 
 Or lur'd in net assiduous, sittest thou alone 
 Upon the bared bough ; thy little head 
 Nestling beneath thy silvery wings ; while hang 
 Thy pennons, late so glossy, shivering down 
 Unplum'd, neglected, drooping ! Through the day 
 So tried, my tender friends, another task. 
 And heavier yet, remains to be perform'd. 
 Oh, with the balm of comfort, with the voice 
 Of soothing softness, the sad truth unfold ! 
 Approach the beauteous mourner, all-rever'd ; 
 And tell her, " that her husband triumphs, lives ; 
 " Lives, though condemned ; lives to a nobler life ! 
 *' Nor in the gladsome view of that high life. 
 
 * " I speechless sat; nor plaintive word, 
 " Nor murmur, from my lips was heard." 
 
 Merrick's Psalms, p. 39.
 
 no ^THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 * Feels he to death reluctance: Blest with her, 
 " Indifferent in his choice to live or die ! " 
 
 Be the decision thine. Father of life ! 
 Thou gavest, thou hast right to take away } 
 In each alike beneficent ! If thou 
 Hast pleasure in me, once more shall I share 
 Thy hallow'd services, my hearts chief joy ; 
 If not with happy David oh like his 
 Could my song flow repentant every thought 
 Uniting cries with resignation's voice, 
 ** Do with me. Lord, as it shall seem thee good*?" 
 
 Thus supplicating, down my weary head. 
 To slumber on its wretched pillow, sunk, 
 O'erpower'd, oppress'd ; nor on the main-mast high, 
 Rock'd by the bellowing tempest, and the dash 
 Of furious surges, the poor ship-boy sleeps 
 More soundly, than my powers o'erwrought, amidst 
 The din of desperate felons, and the roar 
 Of harden'd guilt's mad midnight orgies loud ! 
 
 * 2 Sam. jr. 2, 96.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. Hi 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 But fancy free, the busy soul was wake ; 
 Anticipation pleasing of its state. 
 When sleeps its clayey prison in the grave, 
 And forth it bursts to liberty ! Methought 
 * Such was the vision in a lowly vale 
 Myself I found, whose living green was deck'd 
 With all the beauteous family of Spring : 
 Pale primrose, modest violet, hare-bell blue. 
 Sweet-scented eglantine of fragrance rich. 
 And permanent the rose; golden jonquil. 
 And polyanthus variegate of hue. 
 With lilies dale delighting. Through the midst 
 Meandering, of pure crystal, flow'd a stream 
 The flowery banks reflecting : On each sixk. 
 With homely cots adorn'd, whose 'habitants. 
 When sorrow-simk, my voice of comfort sooth 'd j 
 When sickness-worn, my hand of care reliev'd. 
 Tended, and ministering to all their wants. 
 Instructed in the language of the skies. 
 Dear was the office, cheering was the toil. 
 And something like angelic felt my soul ! 
 
 When lur'd, methought, by one of glittering hue
 
 lis THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 (Bright gleam'd the coronet upon his brow. 
 Rich glow'd his robe of crimson, ermine-deck 'd) 
 I toil'd to gain a neighbouring mountain's top. 
 Where blaz'd preferment's temple. So my guide, 
 With smile complacent, taught and led me on, 
 Softening with artful speech the tedious way, 
 And arduous ever. As I rose, the view 
 Still gloomier seem'd, and dreary: the strait path 
 Still straiter, and more sharp the pointed briars 
 Entangling ! With insulting sneers the crowd. 
 Pressing the same bad road, jostled me by. 
 Or threw me prostrate ; till fatigu'd and faint. 
 With feeble voice, exhausted quite, I cried, 
 ** Oh to my vale restore me ! to my cots, 
 *' Illustrious guide ! my ministrations blest, 
 " Angelical and blessing!" With a-lok 
 Of killing scorn he ey'd me : Instant down, 
 Precipitate dash'd o'er me craggy rocks. 
 Tumbling tumultuous ; and in dungeon dark, 
 lUumin'd only by the furious glare 
 Of lynx and tygers ey^s, through hunger fierce. 
 And eager to devour, trembling I lay !
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. kl3 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 When in a moment, through the dungeon's gloom. 
 
 Burst light resplendent as the mid-day sun, 
 
 From adamantine shield of heavenly proof. 
 
 Held high by one*, of more than human port. 
 
 Advancing slow ; while on his tow'ring crest 
 
 Sat fortitude unshaken : At his feet 
 
 Crouch'd the half-famish'd savages ! From earth 
 
 He rais'd me, weeping, and with look of peace 
 
 Benignant, pointed to a crimson cross 
 
 On his bright shield pourtray'd. A milder form. 
 
 Yet of celestial sweetness, such as oft 
 
 My raptur'd eyes have in the tablet trac'd 
 
 Of unaffected penitence ; of her 
 
 Pleasing similitude the weeping fair 
 
 Early from royal but unhallow'd love. 
 
 To God's sole service flying f Fam'd Le Brun, 
 
 Thy glowing pencil's master-piece ! Such seem'd 
 
 Faith. 
 
 t Madame de la Valiere. This fine picture is in the Chapel of 
 the Carmelite Nuns at Paris.
 
 U4 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 Repentance, meek approaching. From the den, 
 
 Illimiin'd and defended by faith's shield. 
 
 My trembling feet she led ; and having borne 
 
 Through perils infinite, and terrors wild 
 
 And various, fainting almost my sick soul 
 
 Sh^ left me at a gate of glittering gold. 
 
 Which open'd instantaneous at the touch 
 
 Of homely porter*, clad in wolsey gray. 
 
 And ever bending lowly to the ground 
 
 His modest countenance ! But what a scene 
 
 Admitted through the portal on my sight 
 
 Transported, rush'd 1 High on a saj^hire thronei 
 
 Amidst a flame like carbuncle, sat Love, 
 
 Beaming forth living rays of light and joy 
 
 On choral crowds of spirits infinite. 
 
 In immortality and glory cloth'd ; 
 
 And hymning lofty strains to minstrelsy 
 
 Of golden harps accorded, in his praise. 
 
 Love, uncreate, essential : Love, which bled. 
 
 Humility.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 115 
 
 ThelVkl. 
 
 "Which bleeding blanch'd to purest white their robes. 
 Ami with eternal gold adom'd their brows ! 
 
 Dissolv'd, methought, and all my senses rapt 
 In vision beatific, to a bank 
 Of purple amaranthus was I borne 
 By a superior genius. His white w^ings 
 Distilling panacea, dove-like spread 
 Refreshing fragrance o'er me : Firm of brow 
 And masculine he seem'd th' ennobling power 
 Angelic, destined In the human heart 
 To nourish friendship's flame ! Uprais'd my eyes 
 As from a trance returning " Spirit belov'd, 
 ** And honour'd ever ! " anxious straight I cried, 
 " Thrice welcome to my wishes ! Oh impart 
 *' For you can tell in these delightful realms 
 *' Of happiness supernal, shall we know, 
 * Say, shall we meet and know those dearest fricuds* 
 " Those tender relatives, to whose concerns 
 " You minister ap|X)inted ? Shall we meet 
 " In mutual amity ? mutual converse hold, . 
 " And live in love ioomortal ? Oh relieve 
 " My aching heart's solicitude ; and ay.
 
 ii6 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 The Trial. 
 
 " Here shall I meet, here know, in boundless bliss, 
 " Here view transported, her, my life's best friend, 
 *' My sorrows faithful soother ! " Gushing tears 
 Impetuous stopp'd my voice ; and I awoke 
 To earth, to night, to darkness, and a jail ! 
 
 AprUJ.^, 1777. 
 
 END OF THE FOURTH WEEK.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON; 
 
 WEEK THE FIFTH. 
 
 FUTURITY, 
 
 " To death devote!" That in the vemal bloom 
 Of redolent youth and beauty, qn the cross 
 Hung high her motto*! she, in name and choice 
 Of that for better part, like her so fam'd 
 In story evangelical, sweet saint. 
 
 * Miss Mary Bosanquct, whose raotto, encircling a cross, Is, 
 " Devoted to Death." From fourteen years of age she dedicated 
 herself to sincere religion, and to the present hour has persevered 
 in the most exemplary line of duty. Her letters to the author, in 
 his last distress, afforded him peculiar comfort
 
 as THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Friend of my soul, and soother of my grief 
 Shall I then dread age, and worn with woe. 
 To meet the king of terror^ ? Coward fear. 
 Of what we all must meet : The primal curse 
 Of our first father rests on all -his race. 
 And " Dust to dust," the charter of mankind I 
 But, were it possible, oh, who would wish 
 To stretch the narrow span, grown tedious, stale. 
 With dull recvirrence of the same dxxll acts, 
 Ev'n in Its happiest state ? A toilsome care, 
 A wearying round of clothing, food, and sleep ; 
 While chequer'd over with a thousand ills 
 Inevitably painful I In our frame 
 Dwell (death's artillery) diseases dire. 
 And potent to dislodge the brittle life 
 With agonies heart-rending ! In the soul 
 Lurks sin, the serpent, with her fiery sting 
 Of sorrow, rankling on the conscience deep. 
 Source of all mental misery ! From without. 
 In close battalion, a black troop of ills 
 Level their deep-drawn arrows at our peace ; 
 And fail not, as we pass through life's bad road.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. J19 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 To wouud th' unguarded traveller! witneas you 
 Who groan distress'd beneath oppression's scourge ; 
 Ingratitude's sharp tooth ; the cauker'd tongue 
 Of slander j fortune's loss ; or bitterer far. 
 The loss of fame, and soul-coruiected friends ! 
 
 Thus tax'd, thus wretched, can the man be wise 
 Who wishes to retain so poor a boon ? 
 Who fears to render the deposit up 
 To his blest hands who gave ? and who thus 
 Beneficent hath rang'd his moral plan. 
 Thus good with evil mix'd ; from earth's poor love 
 (School of probation) suffering man to wean. 
 And raise his hopes to heaven ? Silence then 
 The whisper of complaint ; low in the dust 
 Dissatisfaction's demons growl unheard ! 
 All, all is good, all excellent below : 
 Pain is a blessing; sorrow leads to joy, 
 Joy permanent and solid ! Every ill 
 Bears with it love paternal : nay, ev'n death. 
 Grim death itself, in all its horrors clad^ 
 Is man's supremest privilege! It frees
 
 120 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 The soul from prison, from foul sin, from woe. 
 And gives it back to glory, rest and God ! 
 
 When will its welcome message lay at peace 
 My burden'd, beating heart ? Oh strange ! to point 
 Thy darts, inexorable tyrant, there. 
 Where life laughs crown'd with roses ; when these 
 
 arms. 
 Familiar to thy sister Sorrow's fold. 
 Would so delighted hug thee ! But thou lov'st 
 Full oft the noblest quarry, highest aim ; 
 Lov'st unsuspected, and with silent step. 
 To steal on the secure ; lo\'^st to deal round 
 Tremendous and impartial thy stern strokes. 
 Asserting terrible o'er human-kind 
 Iliy empire irresistible ; and now 
 At monarchs, now at mimics, grinning scorn, 
 Thy hand indifferent hurls the twanging shaft. 
 
 Ah what a group of primest deer lie pierc'd. 
 Thou hunter all victorious, at thy feet 1 
 Since to thy empire dedicate I fell 
 From life's bright hope, and languish'd in this grave,
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. iii 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 This living, doleiul sepulchre immur'd ! 
 
 Not all thy gold or orient pearl could sa.vt tattoo Hi 
 Thee, Lusitania's monarch, from the stroke 
 Impending long' and dread ! Nor, Terrick , .theo, oiAi 
 Thy mitre, and thy rochet I Ensigns blest, ' . 
 
 When worn with sanctity ; then surely chan^d 
 For crown of gold, and robe of spotless white ^i>fjoY rr 
 
 See, neither can the coronet, nor garb ijnnnH teu' 
 Of ermin'd pomp, from Temple f turn aside si th^fT 
 
 The levell'd blow ; nor, highr fair in price, i 
 
 Th' uplifted shield of Janasen's honest heart ! . 
 Lo ! too, as if in scorn of purple pride, ^j^ -ts'owr 
 
 And all life's glories, in this high paradfe^iosjaoo agwMt ' ' 
 Funeral marches, tragic-actor now, ' r,) ifiBtouhK 
 
 He who so late light on the comic sock 
 Trod the gay stage, and bade with laughter's burst 
 Involimtary the throng'd theatres resound ! 
 And, food for worms, poor Woodward, thou no less 
 
 * Bishop of londoo. t Countess of TenpJe. 
 
 G
 
 lfi THOUGHTS IN PRISON, 
 
 Futuritj. 
 
 " ' '" i - 
 
 Than patriots, princes, countesses and priests ! 
 Death scorns distinction : But, despotic iKXwer, 
 Cloth'd in his direst terrors, here he reigns. 
 Here reveb ! Here with bitterest vengeance, shakes 
 O'er trembling convicts his determin'd shaft. 
 And gluts himself with horror ! See him lead 
 From yonder darksome cell, all pale with woe. 
 That stranger* sinking, who, in luckless hour, '^'' 
 
 With rash hand pierc'd the boaora he ador'd, i &'tMt>ia Kp 
 Nor drank of comfort m<we '. Iwilf in his heart 
 The black lance festering strikes ; and death himself 
 Howe'er relentless, ere he drives, it home, "'* ' ^^ 
 
 Of strange commiser^iwa feels a pang, 'o% a*?ail lb fca A 
 Rekictant to his office !-^ ''^f ^te>A:n&m 
 
 But, that shri^ 
 
 : ji OA uoAt '< ,snn&9f vA bo(d ibah 
 
 * Alluding to Tolosa, a poor uahappy Spaniard, lately ex- 
 
 ec.ut<5d 4ipr the mvirder of his female friend. He took scarce any 
 
 sustenance from the time of the fact, and was more than half dead 
 
 'wben con.*eyed to tbe pkte- of execution.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISOI*:. iw 
 
 Futuritj. 
 
 Thrilling with dread whence is it ? 'Tis the Toice 
 Of female misery, bursting through the crowd ' , 
 To the loan dai^;Mit j view tliat lorely form *, ^ 
 Deck'd in the neateat white, ^yet rot so white 
 And wan as her wild visage : " Keep me not," 
 Raving, she cries, " Keep me not, cruel, from him. 
 " He dies this mom ; I know it : he's condemn'd ; 
 " The dreadful judge has done it ! He must die, 
 " My husband 1 and I'm come, clad in my best, 
 " To go and suffer with him 1 I have brought 
 ** Sweet flowers to cheer him, and to strew his corse. 
 ** Pale, pale, and speechless lies it ! Husband come ! 
 ** The little infant, fruit of our glad loves, 
 ** SmlTd on me, as with parting breath I bifest, 
 " And kiss'd the dear babe for thee ! 'Tis but young j 
 
 * This also alludes to a miserable catastrophe, vthidi happenedT 
 here on the morning of a late execution. The poor young wonum 
 who came to visit her husband, had laid in but seven days. As 
 soon as the husband's fetters were knocked off, he stepped aside, 
 and cut his throat in a dismal manner, but not quite sufficiently 
 to finish his existence; aod in that shocking state pad hlsdebt 
 at the destined place. 
 
 02
 
 124 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 " 'Tis tender yet j seven days is young in life : 
 
 ** Angels will guard my little innocent : 
 
 "^ They'll feed it, tho' thou could'st not find it food, 
 
 *< And its poor mother too ! And so thou dy'st I 
 
 " For me and it thou dy'st ! But not aloile^ 
 
 ** Thou shult not go alone : I will die with thee j 
 
 ** Sweet mercy be upon us ! Hence, hence, hence !" 
 
 Impetuous then her white arms round his neck 
 
 She threw; and, with deep groans would pierce a 
 
 rock. 
 Sunk fainting. Oh the husband's, father's pangs. 
 Stopping all utterance ! Up to Heaven he roU'd 
 His frantic eyes ; and, staring wildly rovmd 
 In desperation's madness, to his heart 
 Drove the destructive steel ! Fell death, 
 Would'st thou a fuller triumph ? Oh my wife. 
 How dismal to our ears the shrieks, the groans ! 
 And what a crowd of wild ideas press 
 Distracting on the soul ! " Merciful Heaven^ 
 " In pity spare us ! Say, it is enough, 
 '*-^nd bid the avenging angel stay his hand ! '* 
 Death bars the pleaj and with hisxthundexiog sulk.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 125 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Bnishing beside m, calls^ in solemn sound. 
 Heed to his dart grief pointed. Its keen stroke. 
 Ah, gentle Eleonora* ! gives at once 
 Relief to thy o'er-bupden'd breast ! to ours 
 Anguish unutterable ! 'Tis ours he wounds. 
 Thou amiable friend ! ^whose languid eye 
 Ne'er raised a look from earth, since that sad hour 
 When sunk my sun ? Thou, who from earliest youth 
 Hast humbly sought thy God, thou art at peace : 
 Happy, thrice happy, on that golden shore. 
 Where from the tossing of these troublous waves 
 We soon shall land. Oh stay, affectionate. 
 Oh wait and welcome us ! Or, if in Heaven 
 Blest saints retain concern for those on earth 
 Held in the dearest amity, become 
 Thy darling sister's guardian ! As for youth. 
 
 * Mrs. Dodd's sister ; who, in the midst of our sorrows, did 
 what she never did before augment them, by djing of a heart 
 brol^en with grief for our calamitj. Oh miserj !
 
 126 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 From childhood's dawn her dear maternal guide. 
 Be now, lov'd spirit, in this jiour oi-wot. 
 Her angel-comfort, her 8i:g)port ! Alas, 
 What talk I of support ! thou mercy's God ! 
 When her conduct, by thy grace inspir'd 
 When all her patient gentleness and love. 
 Her fortitude unparallel'd, and peace. 
 Have thee their Author : Be the glory thine ! 
 
 But say, my soul, 'midst these alarming calls. 
 This dread familiarity with death ; 
 Our common debt, from infancy's first cry 
 Denoimc'd, expected, though- its sure approach 
 Lurks in uncertainty's obscurest ni^t : 
 Our common debt, which babes and palsied seers. 
 Princes and pilgrims, equally must pay ; 
 Say, canst thou feel reluctance to discharge 
 The claim inevitable ? Senseless he. 
 Who in life's gaudiest moments fondly strives 
 To t\irn his eyes unheeding from the view 
 Instructive. 'Midst those moments, deep it dwelt
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 127 
 
 On my reflecting mind * 1 a mi^d whkh liv'd 
 More in the futvire than the present world, iieniuui> 
 Which, frequent cali'd by du^'s solemn voice 
 From earth's low scenes, on those sublimer far 
 Hath ever thought delighted ; and those thoughts 
 Conveying to mankind, in them desires 
 Its real transcript, its resemblance true. 
 May be survey'd the picture of itseiil 
 For, whatsoe'er may be our earthly state. 
 The mind's the man. My humble labours, Hmm, . .. /. 
 When rest my part corporeal in the dvet, ,cvn ^m Juifl' 
 Hang up my living portrait ! And to give Mliiu iili7/ 
 Tliose labours all their force, 9ummon'd I tftand. at mcn'l 
 By awful providence, to realise - Avua ^'i 
 
 The theoretic lessons I have taught. -.fls fcaA 
 
 And lol compos'd, I fix my dying seal . [' 
 
 In attestation to their truth, their power, ^tu iifio odW 
 Felt at my heart, my inmost conscience felt j 
 
 * ReflectioDs oa Death ^Tbougbts ou Epiphany Seraiou on 
 Mutual Knowledge, &c.
 
 1^8 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Imparting triumph o'er life's love ; o'er death 
 Consummate exultation ! while my soul 
 Longs to go forth, and pants for endless day ! 
 
 But who can wonder, that amidst the woes. 
 Like a swoln torrent, which with frig'ntful roar 
 Have burst destructive o'er me j midst the loss 
 Of all things dear. Fame, Honour, Peace, and Rest; 
 Amidst the cruel spoiling of my goods. 
 The bitterest rancour of envenom'd spite 
 And calumny unfeeling*; what surprise 
 That my wean'd soul, above this worldly wreck. 
 With anxious expectation waite the call 
 From melancholy mourning and dim grief. 
 To everlasting glsidness ? Powerful Hope, 
 And all-sufficient to sustain the soul. 
 Though walking through the darkest vale of woe ! 
 Who shall disprove that Hope ? or who pretend 
 
 * Nnmberless letters of a most unchristian, horrid, and cruel 
 nature, were continually sent to him in the height of his distresses. 
 Yet some of these letters were subscribed, A Lady, A Christian, 
 or, A Christian Brother.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 129 
 
 r 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 
 
 By subtle sophistry that soul to rob 
 
 Of its chief anchor, choicest privilege 
 
 And noblest consolation " Stedfast faith 
 
 *' In great Futurity's extended scene : 
 
 *' Eternity of Being ? " All things round 
 
 Arise in brightest proof : I see it, feel it. 
 
 Through all my faculties, through all my powers. 
 
 Pervading irresistible. Each groan 
 
 Sent from my sorrowing heart ; each scalding tear 
 
 From my convicted eyes ; each fervent prayer 
 
 By meek repentance ofFer'd up to Heaven, 
 
 Asserts my immortality ! proclaims 
 
 A pardoning Deity and future world. 
 
 Nor less the thought, chill, comfortless ^bhorr'd 
 
 Of loath'd annihilation ! From the view 
 
 Humiliating, mean, unworthy man. 
 
 Almost unworthy reptiles, glad I turn. 
 
 And triumph in existence ! Nay, each ill 
 
 And every mundane trouble preaches loud 
 
 The same important truth. I read it fair 
 
 And legibly engrav'd on all below ; 
 
 Oh all the iowjualities discern'd 
 
 6d
 
 130 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 In this perplexing, mix'd, and motley scene j 
 In every rank and order of mankind * ; 
 Nay, in the wisest system of our laws, 
 Inadequate, imperfect, ^and full oft 
 Uiijust and cruel ; in this dismal jail. 
 And in the proudest palaces, alike 
 I read, and glory to trace oat the marks 
 Irrefragably clear of future life. 
 Of retribution's just and equal state. 
 
 So reason urges ; while fair Nature'* self. 
 At this sweet season f, joyfully throws in 
 Her attestation lovely j bids the sun. 
 All-bounteous, pour his vivifying light. 
 To rouse and waken from their wint'ry death 
 The vegetable tribe ! Fresh from their graves. 
 At his resistless summons. Start they forth. 
 
 * See Maclean's Answer to Jenjns, &c. p. 52. 
 
 t Spring. See my Poem on the Epiphany, ver. 131, &c. 
 1 woxild have that Poem considered, in dependence with this, as 
 my serious thoughts on these awful subjects, in an early period of 
 ^y life ; and which. In this last and dreadful one, I find no reason 
 to alter.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 131 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 A verdant resurrecfion 1 In each plant, . i 
 
 Each flower, each tree to blooming life restor'd, 
 
 I trace the pledge, the earnest, and the type 
 
 Of man's revival, of his future rise 
 
 And victory o'er the grave,^-compeird to yield, 
 
 Her sacred, rich deposit, from the seed 'Uj^r n h'rtft/io' ) 
 
 Corrupt and mortal, and immortal frame ..ryvj f;,, ,-^ 
 
 Glorious and incorruptible J like his, ....ii'i,;ii 
 
 The Son of righteousness, whose living power 
 
 The mighty work shall operate ! Yes, bright source 
 
 Of spiritual life ! the immaterial world 
 
 Pervading, quickening, gladdening,-~in the rays 
 
 Full-orb'd of Revelation, thy prime gift, 
 
 I view display'd, magnificent, and full, . r[j , ; 
 
 "What reason, nature, in dim darkness teach, wlntist! wH 
 
 Though visible, not distinct : I read with joy 
 
 Man's high prerogative j transported read 
 
 The certain, clear discovery of life :..,. j . 
 
 And immortality, announc'd by thee,;-nV-o - 
 
 Parent of truth, celestial Visitant, 
 
 Fountain of all intelligence divine !
 
 132 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Of that high immortality the King, 
 
 And of that life the Author ! How man mounts. 
 
 Mounts upon angel-wings, when fief'd, secur'd 
 
 In that sublime inheritance ; when seen 
 
 As a terrestrial stranger here ; a god 
 
 Confin'd a while in prison of the flesh. 
 
 Soon, soon to soar, and meet his brother gods. 
 
 His fellows, in eternity ! How creeps. 
 
 How grovels human nature ! What a worm. 
 
 An insect of an hour, poor, sinfvd, sad ; 
 
 Despis'd and despicable, reptile-like. 
 
 Crawls man, his moment on his ant-hill here : 
 
 Marking his little shining path with slime, 
 
 If limited to earth's brief round 
 
 His painful, narrow views ! Like the poor moth, 
 
 By lights delusive to destruction led. 
 
 Still struggling oft its horrors to evade. 
 
 Still more and more involv'd ; in flames he lives 
 
 His transient, toilsome minute, and expires 
 
 In suffocating smoke. 
 
 Hume, thou art gone I
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 193 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Amidst the catalogue of those mow*d down 
 By time's huge scythe, late noted * : Thou, be sure. 
 Wast not forgotten ! Author, thou hast gain'd 
 Thy vast ambition's summit : Fame was thine ; 
 Wealth too, beyond thy amplest wish's bound 
 Encompass'd thee : And lo, the pageant ends ! 
 For who, without compassion's generous tear. 
 Thy mind at once capacious and humane. 
 Can view, to truth, to hope immortal dead ? 
 Thy penetrating reason, subtle, strong, 
 Hoodwink'd by dark infatuation's veil j 
 And all thy fine and manly sense employ'd, 
 Ev'n on eternity's thrice awful verge. 
 To trifle with the wonders of a state 
 "Respectably alarming ! of 9 state 
 Whose being gives to man had given to thee 
 (Accepted by the humble hand of faith) 
 
 See Mr. Hume's Life, written by himsell"; with a letter by 
 Dr. Smit)), giving an account of his death. S"' *-"'-- <^
 
 134 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 True glory, solid fame, and boundless wealth ! 
 Treasures that wax not old. 
 
 Oh the high blessings of humility ! 
 Man's first and richest grace ! Of virtue, truth. 
 Knowledge, and exaltation, certain source. 
 And most abundant : Pregnant of all good ; 
 And, }X)or in show, to treasures infinite 
 Infallibly conducting ; her sure gift ! 
 So, when old Hyems has deform'd the year. 
 We view, on fam'd Burgundia's craggy cliffs. 
 The slow vines, scarce distinct, on the brown earth 
 Neglected lie and grovelling ; promise poor 
 From plant so humble, of the swelling grape 
 In glowing clusters purpling o'er the hills : 
 When all-impregnating rolls forth the sun, 
 And from the mean stalk pours a luscious flootl 
 Of juice nectareous through the laughing land ! 
 
 Nervous essayist ! haply had thy pen. 
 Of masculine ability, this theme 
 Pursued intelligent j from Itowly heart 
 Delineating true the features mild 
 Of genuine humility ; mankind.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 13* 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Now 'wilder'tl by thy sophistry, had bless'd 
 And honour'd well thy teachipg ; whilst thyself 
 Secure had sail'd and happy ; nor been cast 
 On pride's black rocks, or empty scorn's bleak shore 1 
 Proud 8C(Mii, how poor and blind how it at once 
 Destroys the sight, and makes us think we see ! 
 While desperate ridicule in wit's wild hands 
 Implants a dangerous weapon ! How it warps 
 From clear discernment, and conclusions just, 
 Ev'n captive reason's self! How gay soe'er 
 (Ah misplac'd gaiety on such a theme) 
 In life's last hour ! on Charon's crary bark. 
 On Tartarus and Elysium, and the pomp 
 Solemn and dreaded of dark pagans' Hell ! 
 Thy reasoning powers knew wdl, full well to draw 
 Deductions true from fables gross as these. 
 By poets fancy heighten'd ! Well tho knew'st 
 The deep intelligence, the solid truth 
 Conceal'd beneath the mystic talc j well knew'st 
 Fables like these, familiar to mankind 
 In every nation, every clime, through earths 
 Widely dissenunate, through earih proclaimil
 
 136 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 In language strong, intelligent and clear, 
 " A future state retributive :" Thou knew'st. 
 That in each age the wise embrac'd the truth. 
 And gloried in an hope, how dim soe'er. 
 Which thou, amidst the blaze, the noon-day blaze 
 Of Christian information, madly scorn'dst. 
 And died'st insulting ! Hail of ancient times. 
 Worthies and fam'd believers! Plato, hail! 
 And thou, immortal Socrates, of Rome 
 Prime ornament and boast ! My Tully hail ! 
 Friend and companion of my studious life j 
 In eloquence and sound philosophy 
 Alike superlative ! with minds enlarg'd. 
 Yet teachable and modest, how ye sought. 
 You and your kindred souls, -how daily dug 
 For wisdom, as the labourer in the mines 1 
 How grop'd, in fancy's and dark fable's night. 
 Your way assiduous, painful ! How disccrn'd 
 By the mind's trembling, unassisted light, 
 (Or, haply, aided by a scatter'd ray 
 Of distant revelation, half extinct) - 
 The glimmer of a dawn ; the twinkling star
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. -id? 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Of day-light far remote ! How sigh'd sincere 
 
 For fuller information ! and how long'd. 
 
 How panted for admission to that world 
 
 O'er which hung veils impervious ! Sages, yes. 
 
 Immortal of your writings speaks this truth ! 
 
 Hear, ye minute philosophers; ye herd 
 
 Of mean half-thinkers, who chief glory place 
 
 In boldness to arraign and judge your god. 
 
 And think that singularity is sense ! 
 
 Hear, and be humbled : Socrates himself* 
 
 And him you boast your master, would have fall'n 
 
 In humble, thankful reverence at the feet 
 
 Of Jesus, and drank wisdom from his tongue ! 
 
 Divinest Fountain ! from the copious stream 
 Then drink we freely, gladly, plenteous draughts 
 Of ever-living wisdom ; knowledge clear. 
 And otherwise attainless of that state 
 Supernal, glorious ; where, in angel-form 
 
 * Alluding to his celebrated wbh of divine iUunuoation from 
 some superior power.
 
 138 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 And angel-blessedness*, from Death's dread pow'r. 
 From Sin's dominion, and from Sonow's sense 
 Emancipated ever, we shall share 
 Complete, uninterrupted, boundless bliss ; 
 Incessant flowing forth from God's right hand. 
 Well of perennial joy f ! Our moral powers. 
 By perfect pure benevolence enlarg'd. 
 With universal sympathy, shall glow 
 Love's flame ethereal ! And from God himself. 
 Love's primal source, and ever4>lessing sun. 
 Receive, and round communicate the warmth 
 Of gladness and of glory I Then shall rule. 
 From dregs of sordid interest defecate. 
 Immortal friendship. Then too shall we trace 
 With minds congenial, and a thirst for truth 
 Sincere and simple, the Creator's works, 
 Illumin'd by the intellectual soul, 
 Refm'd, exalted '. Animating thought ! 
 
 * laayyiXot. t See Psalm xiv. 11.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 139 
 
 Futurhy. 
 
 To talk with Plato, or with Newton tread 
 Through empyrean space the boundless track 
 Of stars erratic, or the comet vague 
 With fiery lustre wandering through the depths 
 Of the blue void, exhaustless, infinite ; 
 While all its wonders, all its mystic use. 
 Expand themselves to the admiring sight ! 
 
 Descending then from the celestial range 
 Of planetary worlds, how blest to walk 
 And trace with thee, nature's true lover. Hale, 
 In science sage and venerable trace 
 Through vegetation's principle, the Hod I 
 Read in each tube, capillary, and root. 
 In every leaf and blossom, fruit and flower. 
 Creative energy, consummate art. 
 Beauty and bounty blended and complete ! 
 Oh what a burst of wisdom and delight. 
 Intelligence and pleasure, to engage 
 Th' enraptur'd mind for ages ! 'Twere too short 
 Eternity itself, with reasoning quest 
 To search, to contemplate great nature's God 
 Through all his nature's works ! Svm, stars, and skies.
 
 140 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 With all their vast and elemental store : 
 
 Seas, with their finny myriads : birds that wing 
 
 With glittering pinions the elastic air. 
 
 And fill the woods with music : Animals, 
 
 That feed, that clothe, that labour for their lord. 
 
 Proud man ; and half up to his reason climb. 
 
 By instinct manxUous ! Fruits, that infinite 
 
 In glow and taste refresh creation's toil j 
 
 And flowers, that rich in scent their incense sweet 
 
 Delicious offering both to God and man,'^ 
 
 Breathe free from velvet vari^ated hues. 
 
 And speak celestial kindness then from these 
 
 His lesser wonders Fam'd anatomists. 
 
 Ye, who with scrupulous, but still painful search. 
 
 Pore doubtful in the dark recess of life ; 
 
 Then turn we, Cheselden, to man ; so form'd 
 
 With fear and wonder by the master-hand. 
 
 And learn we, from discovery of the springs 
 
 Of this divine automaton : the blood 
 
 In nimble currents coursing through the veins 
 
 And purple arteries ; the fibres fine ; 
 
 Tke tubal nerves, so ramified and quick
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 141 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 To keen sensation ; all the vartotis parts 
 So complicate, yet disUnct ; ^apted each 
 Its functions with minuteness to fulfil. 
 While to the one great end concurring all 
 With harmony unvarying ! Learn we hence 
 The wisdom exquisite, which gave to life. 
 To motion, this his prime, his chief machine ! 
 And superadded, in his love's display. 
 The soul's superior, intellectual rule ; 
 Connection wonderful ! and till that hour 
 Of all-expanding knowledge, to man's mind 
 Inexplicable still, and still unknown ! 
 
 How rise upon the thought, to truth attent. 
 Truths new and interesting, 'midst this field 
 Of universal science ! Nor shall then 
 The spirits* seat and influence on our frame. 
 Gross and material, be alone involv'd 
 To our astonish'd view. Spirit itself. 
 Its nature, properties, distinctions, powers, 
 Deep subject of investigation deep. 
 And chief resolvcr of man's anxious doubts ; 
 Though to his sight impossible, ox search.
 
 14' THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 While darken'd by mortality shall rise. 
 
 Soon as he bursts the barrier of the grave. 
 
 Clear and familiar on his sight enlarg'd : 
 
 Seen in himself, beautify *d, and doth'd 
 
 With spiritual glory : in the angelic world 
 
 Seen and admir'd. And oh ecstatic view. 
 
 Whose sight is perfect bliss, transforming, pure*,- 
 
 Seen and ador'd in Thee, great first and last 
 
 Sole, self-existing Thou the gracious cause 
 
 Of aK existence j irifinitely blest. 
 
 Yet pieas'd witlk life and being to impart 
 
 There mut be^rtnpathy in the future state, to render it uiJ- 
 formly complete and perfect We can have no pleasure in God, f 
 or God in us, but from that sympathy ariang from similitude. We 
 must be made like God, to enjoy beatific vision. Bring a bad man 
 to Heaven, wiA a soul encrusted and' sensualised, be wt>uld have ' 
 no pleasure in it j nor could he endure the sight, any more thmi 
 reptiles that grovel in a cave amidst filth and darkness, could en- 
 dure the splendours of the mid-day sun. Shakspeare's description 
 is in this view highly animated : 
 
 " For vice, though to a radiant angel link'd, \ 
 
 " Would sate hseif in a celestial bed, ,j^j^jj ' 
 
 " And prey on garbage."
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. i4 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 That blessing to iomimerMS creatures round! ' '^ 
 
 Spirit of the universe, through all difiiis'd. 
 
 And animating all ! Dread Triune God , 
 
 With beams exhaustless of eternal love. 
 
 Of life, of glory, itoax thy central throne 
 
 Shining beneficeut ; and kindling warm 
 
 In every being subject to thy rule. 
 
 Devotion's rapture, and thanksgiving's song; 
 
 Mellifluous songs, and hallelujahs high ! 
 
 New wonders elevate ! For not alone 
 By contemplation up to nature's God 
 From nature's works ascending, shall the soul 
 Beatified receive in future bliss -*'>'^ 
 
 Accessions of delight through endless day : it' 
 
 Lo, what a scene, enga^ng and profound, '1 
 
 Presents itself, the darkening curtain drawn-*iol aii ai huA 
 Fronti the high acts of Providence, display'd ""* f*" A 
 
 In one clear view consbtent; in one end * 
 
 Important, grand, concentering : one design ' ' 
 
 J 
 
 * ee Maclean's Answer to Jenyns, p. 72.
 
 tU THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Superlatively gracious, dirough the whole 
 Pursued invariably ; even from the hour 
 When pass'd the sefttence on the serpent's head. 
 To that thriee-awftU moment, wiien the Son 
 His victor-car o'er death and hell shall drive 
 Triumphant, and bolt fast the gates of time ! 
 UnroU'd the mystic volume, we behold. 
 In characters of wisdom strong pourtray'd. 
 The rise and fall of empires j in thy hand 
 Omnipotent, or instruments of good. 
 Or of thy justice punitive and dread 
 Awful dispensers ! There, of heroes, kings. 
 Sages, and saints, of prophets and of priests, ji wtsiiiicvU - 
 Thy distributions, difficult but wise. 
 Discerning, shall we gratefully adore : 
 And in the long, long chain of seeming chance. 
 And accidents fortuitous, shall trace 
 Omniscience all-combining, guiding all ! 
 No dispensations then will seem too hard. 
 Through temporary ills to blissful life 
 Leading, though labyrinthal ! All will shine 
 In open day ; all, o'er the mighty plan.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. Ub 
 
 Fntiirity. 
 
 Discover Thee, with wisdom infinite 
 Presiding glorious : All thy stedfast truth. 
 And love paternal, manifest ; while falls 
 The prostrate world of spirits, angels, saints. 
 In adoration's homage 'fore thy throne ! 
 
 Not to our earth, or earth's poor confines bound : 
 The soul dilated, glorified and free. 
 On seraph's wings shall soar, and drink in glad 
 New draughts of high delight from each survey 
 Of its Creator's kingdoms ! Pleas'd shall pi\s!j 
 From star to star ; from planetary worlds. 
 And systems far remote, to systems, worlds 
 Remoter still, in boundless depths of space j 
 Each peopled with its myriads : and shall learn 
 The wise and strict dependence of the whole j 
 Concatenation striking of thy works. 
 All-perfect, mighty Master ! Wonder-lost 
 In the vast view of systems numberless. 
 All regular, in one eternal round 
 Of beauteous order rolling ! All design'd 
 With skill coruunjmate, tending to one goal j 
 And manifciitiog all, in characters 
 
 H
 
 146 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Transparent as the diamond's brilliant blaze. 
 
 Their Sovereign Ruler's unity of will. 
 
 His all-efficient wisdom, and his love. 
 
 In grace and glory infinite ; the chain 
 
 Connecting firm, and through its every link 
 
 Transfusing life's inef&ble delights ! 
 
 Oh Goodness providential ! sleepless care ! 
 
 Intent, as ever blest, to bless the whole ! 
 
 What plaudits from that whole are due, shall burst 
 
 From full creation's universal ch(dr ! 
 
 Then, oh transporting ! shall the scheme proftnind. 
 Heaven's labour, and of angels' anxious thought 
 Sublimest meditation j then shall bla^e 
 In fullest gkfy on the race redeemed. 
 Redemption's boundless mercy ^' High in Hsav'n, 
 To millions blest, rejoicing in its grace. 
 And hymning all its bounties, shall the cross. 
 Thy cross, all-conq\iering Saviour, be display 'd. 
 While seraphs veil their glories, and while men 
 Throngirjg innumerable, prostrate fall 
 Before thy feet, and to the bleeding Lamb 
 Ascribe their free salvation !
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 10 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 'Midst that throng 
 Of spirits justified, and through thy blood 
 Cleans'd, perfected, and blest, might I be found. 
 To scenes so high exalted ; to such viewi 
 Ennobling brought, such intellect refki'd. 
 Such light and love, such holiness and peace. 
 Such spheres of science, and such realms of rest j 
 Ah, how I'd scorn the passage strait of death. 
 How doleful e'er and horrid ! How I'd look 
 With stedfastness unshaken through the grave. 
 And smile o'er all its sadness ! How I'd rise 
 Exulting, great Forerunner, o'er the wav 
 And bitterness of life ! How, smiling, court 
 Ev'n the fell hand of horror, to dismiss 
 From earth, from darkness, my delighted soul 
 To Heaven, to God, and everlasting day ! 
 
 Teacher of truth, blest Jesu ! On the throne. 
 Of majesty co-equal thou who sitt'st 
 From all eternity in glory's blaze 
 With thy Almighty Father ! Thou, benign. 
 From bosom of that Father hast brought down 
 Intelligence to man of this blest state 
 
 U3
 
 148 THOUGHTS IN- PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Consolatory, rational ; and fraiight 
 
 With every good beyond the highest reach 
 
 Of man's supreme conception 1 How shall then 
 
 In equal language man his homage pay. 
 
 Or grateful laud thy goodness ! Sons of Greece, 
 
 Or ye, who in old times, of sevenfold Nile, 
 
 Proud Tyber, or the Granges' sacred flood 
 
 Religious drank, and to your demons dark 
 
 Paid superstition's tribute ; though I trace 
 
 Delighted, in your visions of the world 
 
 Beyond the grave, your dreams of future life, 
 
 Proofs of that life's firm credence of your faith 
 
 In the soul's deathless nature ; yet with tears 
 
 Of human pity, humbled o'er the sense 
 
 Of human imbecility, I read 
 
 Your futile fables, puerile and poor j 
 
 To the soul's life, to virtue's godlike love 
 
 Unanimating, useless ; while illum'd 
 
 By gospel-splendour, else, no doubt, as dark 
 
 And worthy pity owns my heart rejoic'd. 
 
 That gospel's eminence of wisdom, truth. 
 
 And heavenly emanation, in its traits
 
 TllOUGHTS IN PRISON. 149 
 
 Puturity. 
 
 Of future life superlatively drawn ! 
 
 And who could paint that life, that scene describe 
 Immortal, and all-glorious, from the view 
 Of mortals shrowded ever, save the Son, 
 Who from Eternity that life enjoy'd j ^ 
 And came in condescension to reveal 
 A glimpse of its perfection to mankind ? 
 
 Presumption vain and arrogant in man. 
 To think of sketching with his weak, faint line, 
 A scene so much above him ! And behold 
 That vain presumption punish "d as it ought. 
 In Araby's impostor, dark and lew'd ; 
 Who dar'd, with temporary follies fraught. 
 And low self-interest, stalking in the van 
 Of mad ambition's route to cheat his train^ 
 Deluded by his darings, with the hope 
 Of sensual ravishment, and carnal joys 
 Perpetual in the Paradise of God j 
 Reserv'd for sons of murder and of lust 1 
 
 Shame on the impious madness ! Nor less shame 
 Must truth indignant dart on those who boast 
 JElxclusive Christianity ; yet dare.
 
 150 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Presumptuous, in their fancied penal fire 
 To fetter the free soul, " till the foul sins 
 " Done in its days of nature be purg'd out 
 " And burn'd away * j" unless by lucky chance 
 The oft-repeated mass, throi^h potent gold,-^ 
 All sacred influence ! gain'd, unlocks the door 
 Of dismal prison-house, and gives the soul 
 Enfranchis'd up to Peter's better care ! 
 
 Preposterous, weak delusion ! strange reproach 
 To Christian sapience, and to manly sense ! 
 But not to Christ's true gospel, and the code 
 Of Revelation pure ; before whose light, 
 Resplendently informing, fables old 
 Like these, and vain of ignorance the birth. 
 Or coinage sacerdotal, in an age 
 Of gross Cimmerian darkness, growling hide 
 Their ignominious heads ; as birds of night. 
 Reptiles, and beasts of prey before the sun 
 Mounting the misty hills, in splendour rob'd. 
 And beaming all around refulgent day ! 
 Other, far other from that luminous code 
 
 * See Hamlet.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 16 1 
 
 Futmity. 
 
 Breaks on the rational, enlightn'd mind 
 In perfect beauty that exalted state. 
 Of whose high excellence our sight hath dar'd. 
 How dim soe'er, to take an humble glimpse. 
 And peep into its wonders ! But what tongue 
 Of man in language adequate can tell ; 
 What mortal pencil worthily pourtjr{iy 
 That excellence, those wonders where nor death, 
 I>Jor sin, nor pain shall enter ever ; where. 
 Each ill excluded, every good shall reign j 
 "Where day shall ne'er decline, but ceaseless light 
 The lamb's eternal lustre blazing bless 
 With salutary glory ! where shall smile 
 One spring unvarying ; and glad nature teem 
 Spontaneous with exuberance of bounty j 
 Where, in immortal health, the frame subUm'd, 
 Refin'd, exalted through the chymic grave. 
 In union with the soul made perfect, pure. 
 And to the likeness of its God transform'd. 
 Shall find for every sense divine employ. 
 Gratification ample, exquisite. 
 Angelical, and holy : Chief in siglit.
 
 152 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 In vision beatific of its God ; 
 
 In blest comiimnion of his love; in praise 
 
 High choral praise, strung to the golden harp 
 
 In unison eternal, with the throng. 
 
 Thousands of thousands that surround the throne. 
 
 And feel his praise, their glory, and their bliss ? 
 
 There too his works constant th' adoring soul 
 Shall pleas'd investigate ; and constant find 
 Fresh well-spring of delight ; there constant share 
 The lov'd society and converse high 
 Of all the good, the wise, the truly great 
 Of every age and clime ; with saints and seers 
 Divine communication holding, rapt 
 Perpetually in new and deep displays 
 Of wisdom boundless, and of perfect love. 
 Then too, oh joy ! amidst this blaze of good. 
 This consummation rich of highest bliss ; 
 Then shall we meet, meet never more to part. 
 Dear, dear departed friends"! and then enjoy 
 Eternal amity. My parents then. 
 My youth's companions* ! From my moisten'd cheeks, 
 
 * See Thoughts on the Epiphany, ver. 331, &c.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 153 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Dry the unworthy tear ! Where art tliou. Death ? 
 
 Is this a cause for mourning ? What a state 
 
 Of happiness exahed lies before me 1 
 
 Lo, my bar'd bosom i Strike : I court tlie blow : 
 
 I long, I pant for everlasting day. 
 
 For glory, immortality and God ! 
 
 But, ah ! why droops my soul ? why o'er me thus 
 Comes a chill cloud ? Such triumph well besuits 
 The faithful Christian ; thee had suited well. 
 If haply persevering in the course. 
 As first thy race exultingly began. 
 But thou art fallen, fallen ! Oh my heart. 
 What dire compunction ? sunk in foul oflence 
 A prisoner, and condemn'd ; an outcast vile ; 
 Bye-word and scorn of an indignant world. 
 Who reprobate with horror thy ill deeds ; 
 Turn'd from thee loath'd, and to damnation just 
 Assign, unpitying, thy devoted head. 
 Loaded with every infamy ! 
 
 Dread God 
 Of Justice and of Mercy ! wilt thou too. 
 In fearful indignation on my soul, 
 
 u 5 '
 
 J54 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 My anguish'd soul, the door of pity close. 
 And shut me from thee ever ?-*-Lo ! in dust, 
 numiliant, prostrate, weeping 'fore thy throne- 
 Before thy cross, oh dying Friend of man. 
 Friend of repentant sinners, I confess. 
 And mourn my deep transgressions ; as the sand 
 Innumerpus, as the glowing crimson red ; 
 With every a^ravation, every guilt 
 Accumulate and burden'd ! Against light, 
 'Gainst love and clearest knowledge perpetrate ! 
 Stamp'd with ingratitude's most odious stain ; 
 Ingratitude to thee, whose favouring love 
 Had bless'd me, had distinguish'd me with grace, 
 With goodness far beyond my wish or worth 1 
 Ingratitude to man ; whose partial ear 
 Attended to my doctrine with delight ; 
 And from my zeal conspicuous justly claim'd 
 Conspicuous example ! -Lord, I sink 
 0*erwhelm'd with self-conviction, with dismay. 
 With anguish and confusion past compare ! 
 And could I weep whole seas of briny tears 
 In painful penitence ; could I deplore
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 1&5 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 From my heart's aching fountain, drop by drop. 
 
 My crimes and follies ; my deep grief and shame. 
 
 For vile dishonour ou thy gospel brought ; J^ 
 
 For vile discredit to my order done ; 
 
 For deep offence agftinst my coimtry's laws ; 
 
 For deep offence to pity and to man. 
 
 A patriarchal age w^ould be too short 
 
 To speak my sorrovrs and lament my sins ; 
 
 Chief, as I am of sinners L Guiltier far 
 
 Than he who, fallidg, at the cock's shrill call 
 
 Rose, and repented weeping : guiltier fat 
 
 I dare not say, than Judas j for my heart 
 
 Hath ever lov'd, could never have betray 'd 
 
 Oh never, never Thee, dear Lord ! \0 death j 
 
 Though cruelly, unkindly and unwise 
 
 That heart hath sacriftc'd its truth and peace, 
 
 For what a shameful, what a paltry price ! 
 
 To sin, detested sin ; and done thee wrong. 
 
 Oh blessed source of all its good, its hope I 
 
 For, though thus sunk, thus sinful, sorrowing thus. 
 
 It dare not, cannot Judas' crime commit, 
 
 l.ast crime, and of thy mercy. Lord, despair I
 
 156 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 But, conscious of its guilt ; contrite and plung'd 
 In lowest self-abjection, in the depths 
 Of sad compunction, of repentance due 
 And undissembled, to thy cross it cleaves. 
 And cries for ardent cries for mercy. Lord ! 
 Mercy, its only refuge ! Mercy, Christ ! 
 By the red drops that in the garden gush'd 
 'Midst thy soul's anguish from thee ! By the drops 
 That down thy precious temples from the crown 
 Of agony distill'd ! By those that flow'd 
 From thy pierc'd hands and blessed feet so free ; 
 By all thy blood, thy sufferings, and thy death, 
 Mercy, oh Mercy, Jesus ! Mercy Thou, 
 Who erst on David, v(rith a clement eye. 
 When mourning at thy footstool, deigns to look ; 
 Thou, who, th' adulterous Magdalen forgav'st. 
 When in the winning garb of penitence 
 Contrite she knelt, and with her flowing tears 
 Wash'd lowly thy lov'd feet ! Nor thou the thief, 
 Ev'n in the last, the bitterest hour of pain, 
 Rcfusedst, gracious ! Nor wilt thou refuse 
 My humble supplication, nor reject
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 167 
 
 Putnrity. 
 
 My broken bleeding heart, thus offer'd up 
 On true contrition's altar j while through Thee, 
 Only through Thee acceptance do I hope. 
 Thou bleeding Love ! consummate Advocate, 
 Prevailing Intercessor, great High Priest, 
 Almighty Sufferer ! Oh look pitying down ! 
 On thy sufficient merits I depend ; 
 From thy unbounded mercies I implore 
 The look of pardon and the voice of grace, 
 Grace, Grace ! Victorious Conqueror over sin. 
 O'er death, o'er Hell, for me, for all mankind ; 
 For grace I plead ; repentant at thy feet 
 I throw myself, unworthy, lost, undone ; 
 Trusting my soul, and all its dear concerns, 
 With filial resignation to thy will : 
 Grace, still on grace my whole reliance built. 
 Glory to grace triumphant ! And to thee. 
 Dispenser bounteous of that sovereign grace ! 
 Jesus, thou King of glory ! at thy call 
 I come obedient : lo, the future world 
 Expands its views transporting ! Lord, I come ;
 
 158 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 And in that world eternal trust to 'plaud. 
 With all redemption's sons, thy glorious grace ! 
 
 Then farewell, oh, my friends ! light o'er my grave 
 The green sod lay, and dew it with the tear 
 Of memory affectionate ! and you 
 The curtain drop decisive, oh my foes. 
 Your rancour drop ; and, candid, as I am 
 Speak of me, hapless ! Then you'll speak of one 
 Whose bosom beat at pity's gentlest touch 
 From earliest infaiK;y ; whose boyish mind 
 In acts humane and tender ever joy'd ; 
 And who, that temper by his inmost sense 
 Approv'd and cultivate with constant care, 
 Melted through life at Sorrow's plaintive tale. 
 And urg'd, compassionate with pleasure ran 
 To sooth the sufferer and relieve the woe ! 
 Of one, who, though to humble fortune bred> 
 With splendid generosity's bright form 
 Too ardently enamour'd, turn'd his sight. 
 Deluded, from frugality's just care. 
 And parsimony needful ! One who scorn'd
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 159 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Mean love of gold, yet to that power, his scorn 
 Retorting vengeful, a mark'd victim fell ! 
 Of one, who, unsuspecting, and ill-form'd 
 For the world's subtleties, his bare breast bore 
 Unguarded, open ; and ingenuous, thought 
 All men ingenuous, frank and open too ! 
 Of one, who, warm with human passions, soft 
 To tenderest impressions, frequent rush'd 
 Precipitate into the tangling maze 
 Of error j instant to each fault alive 
 Who, in his little journey through the world- 
 Misled, deluded oft, mistook his way ; 
 Met with bad roads and robbers, for his steps 
 Insidious lurking ; and by cimning craft 
 Of fellow-travellers sometimes deceiv'd, 
 Severely felt of cruelty and scorn. 
 Of envy, malice, and of ill report *, 
 
 * The following is a striking instance, and an alarming proof, 
 that calumny and slander will one day grievously afflict the con- 
 scious mtpd. A clergyman, with whom I liad lived in much 
 friendship, always ready to show him every proof of civility, and
 
 160 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 The heavy hand oppressive ! One who brought 
 From ignorance, from indiscretion blind, 
 Ills numerous on his head ; but never aim'd. 
 Nor vi^ish'd an, ill or injury to man ! 
 Injur'd, with cheerful readiness forgave ; 
 Nor for a moment in his happy heart 
 
 for whom I had much esteem, after an absence of a tnelvemonth 
 and more, sent me a line, that he was then in a dangerous state, 
 apprehensive of a speedy death. I flew to my fKend with all zeal 
 and speed, and found him, as it seemed, in a very dangerous way. 
 Almost as soon as he saw me he burst into tears, and clasping my 
 hands vehemently, said, " Oh, my dear Doctor, I could not die in 
 peace without seeing you, and earnestly imploring your pardon : 
 Por amidst all the seeming friendship I showed, I have been your 
 bitter enemy : I have done all I could on every occasion to traduce 
 and lessen you : envy, base envy alone, being my motive ; for I 
 could not bear the brilliancy of your reputation, and the splendour 
 of your abilities Can you forgive me ? " 
 
 I was shocked ; but with great truth told him to be perfectly 
 at peace; that he had my most sincere forgiveness. I did all I 
 could to soothe his mind. He recovered, and surely must ever be 
 my friend ! Would to God what he then suffered may be a warn- 
 ing to him, and to all, how they indulge such diabolical pasjions ; 
 wliich, as being most opposite to the God who is love, cannot but 
 ^>ooner or later woefully distract the heart !
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 161 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Harbour'd of malice or revenge a thought ; 
 
 Still glad and blest to avenge his foes despite 
 
 By deeds of love benevolent ! Of one 
 
 Oh painful contradiction ! who in God, 
 
 In duty, plac'd the summit of his joy ; 
 
 Yet left that God, that blissful duty left. 
 
 Preposterous, vile deserter ! and receiv'd 
 
 A just return " Draertion from his Grod, 
 
 " And consequential plunge into the depth 
 
 " Of all his present of all human woe I" 
 
 Then hear his sufferings ! Hear (if found too faint 
 
 His feeble song to win attention) hear 
 
 And heed his dying counsel ! Cautious, shun 
 
 The rocks on which he split; cleave close to God, 
 
 Your Father, sure Protector, and Defence : 
 
 Forsake not his lov'd service j and your cause 
 
 Be sure he'll ne'er forsake. Initiate once 
 
 Happy and prosperous, in religion's course 
 
 Oh persevere unfainting ! Nor to vice 
 
 Or tempting folly slightest parley give : 
 
 Their black tents never enter : On the watch 
 
 Continue unremitting, nor e'er slack
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 The necessary guard. Trivial neglects. 
 
 Smallest beginnings *, to the wakeful foe 
 
 Open the door of danger ; and down sinks. 
 
 Through the minutest leak once sprung, the ship 
 
 In gayest and most gallant tackle trim. 
 
 By small neglects he fell ! 
 
 Oh could ye rise 
 
 Blest ministers of peace, by his sad fall : 
 
 Gather increase of caution and of zeal j 
 
 And seeing on what slippery edge ye stand. 
 
 Of foul and fatal lapse take the more heed ; 
 
 With deeper thankfulness he'd bow the knee. 
 
 While thus his fate productive, prov'd of good 
 
 To you, of truth blest heralds! whom he views 
 
 With heart-felt anguish scandaliz'd, irapugn'd 
 
 By his atrocious follies : But for that 
 
 Not honour'd less, or honourable, if rous'd. 
 
 * Principiis obsta : sero medicina paratur. 
 Cum mala per Ipngas convaluere moras. 
 Sed propera ; nee te venturas differ in horas. 
 Qui non est hodie, eras minus aptus crit. 
 
 Ov. R, A. lib. 1. I. 91.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. m 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Ev'n by his errors, wisely you maintain 
 Your high profession's dignity, and look 
 With single eye intent on the great work 
 Thrice holy, of your calling ; happiest work 
 Of mortals here, " Salvation of men's souls." 
 
 Oh envied pastor, who thus occupied 
 Looks down on low preferment's distant views 
 Contemptible ; nor e'er his plotting mind 
 To little, mean servilities enslaves ; 
 Forgetting duty's exercise sublime. 
 And his attachments heavenly ! Who nor joins 
 In fHvolous converse on the rise of this. 
 Nor prospects flattering of that worldly clerk j 
 Strange inconsistency ! marching aloft 
 With step superior, and ambition's paw. 
 To dignity's wish'd summit ! Nor allows 
 Envious, or spreads malicious the low tales 
 Diminishing of brethren, who by zeal. 
 Or eminence of merit in the cause. 
 The common cause of Christ distinguish'd shine : 
 Of futile politics and party rage 
 Who, heedless, ever for the powers that be
 
 164 
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 In meek sincerity implores; and lives 
 Only to spread around the good, the peace> 
 The truth, the happiness, his open heart 
 Innocuous possesses, as the gift 
 Of him the God of peace he serves and loves ! 
 
 Much envied pastor! Ah, ye men of God, 
 Who crowd the levee, theatre, or court ; 
 Foremost in each amusement's idle walk j 
 Of vice and vanity the sportive scorn, 
 The vaunted pillars ; ah that ye were all 
 Such happy, envied pastors! how mankind 
 With eyes of reverence would devoutly look. 
 How would yourselves with eyes of pleasure look, 
 On characters so uniform! while now. 
 What view is found less pleasing to the sight ! 
 
 Nor wonderful, my aged friends ! For none 
 Can inward look complacent where a void 
 Presents its desolations drear and dark. 
 Hence 'tis your turn (incapable to bear 
 Reflection's just resentijient) your luU'd minds 
 To infantine amusements, and employ 
 The hours, short hours, indulgent Heaven affords
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 163 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 For purposes most solemn, in the toil 
 Of busy trifling; of diversions poor. 
 Which irritate as often as amuse : 
 Passions most low and sordid ! With due shame, 
 W'^ith sorrow I regret Oh pardon me 
 This mighty wrong ! that frequent by your side 
 Silent I've sat, and with a pitying eye 
 Your follies mark'd, and unadmonish'd left. 
 Though tenderly lamenting ! Yet, at last, 
 If haply not too late my friendly call 
 Strike on dead ears, oh profit by that call ! 
 And to the grave approaching, its alarms 
 Weigh with me all considerate ! Brief time 
 Advances quick in tread ; few hours and dark 
 Remain : those hours in frivolous employ 
 Waste not impertinent ; they ne'er return 1 
 Nor deem it dulness to stand still and pause 
 When dread eternity hath claims so high. 
 Oh be those claims fulfiU'd I 
 
 Nor my young friends. 
 Whom life's gay sunshine warms with laughing joy.
 
 166 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurit}'. 
 
 Pass you those claims unheeding ! In the bud 
 
 Of earliest rose oft have I sorrowing sewi 
 
 The canker-worm lurk blighting ; oft ere noon. 
 
 The tulip have beheld drop its proud head 
 
 In eminent beauty open'd to the mom ! 
 
 In youth, in beauty, in life's outward charms 
 
 Boast not self-flattering } virtue has a grace. 
 
 Religion has a power, which will preser\'e 
 
 Immortal your true excellence I O give 
 
 Early and happy your young hearts to God, 
 
 And God will smile in countless blessings on you ! 
 
 Nor, captivate by fashion's idle glare. 
 
 And the world's shows delusive, dance the maze. 
 
 The same dull round, fatiguing and fatigu'd. 
 
 Till, discontented, down in folly's seat 
 
 And disappointment's, worthless, toil'd, you sink. 
 
 Despising and despis'd ! Your gentle hearts 
 
 To kind impressions yet susceptible. 
 
 Will amiably hear a friend's advice ; 
 
 And if, perchance, amidst the giddy whirl 
 
 Of circling folly, his unheeded tongue 
 
 Hath whisper'd vanity, or not announc'd
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 167 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Truth's salutary dictates to ydur ean^ 
 
 Forgive the injury, my frieads belov'd ; 
 
 And see me now, solicitous t' atone 
 
 That and each fault, each error ; with fiill eyes 
 
 Entreating you, by all your hopes and fears. 
 
 By all your dear anxieties, by all 
 
 You hold in life most precious, to attend. 
 
 To listen to his lore I to seek for bliss 
 
 In God, in piety ; in hearts devote 
 
 To duty and to Heav'n ! and seeking thus 
 
 The treasure is your own. Angels on earth. 
 
 Thus pure and good, soon will you mount, and lire 
 
 Eternal angels with your Father--God I 
 
 Of admonition due, just self-contempt. 
 And frank expostulation's honest charge. 
 The needful debt thus paid ; haste thou, my song. 
 As hastes my life, brief shadow> to its close ! 
 Then farewell, oh my friends, most valued 1 bound 
 By consanguinity's endearing tie. 
 Or friendship's nOble service, manly love. 
 And generous obligations ! See, in all 
 And spare the tear of pity Heaven's high will
 
 J68 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 Ordaining wise and good. I see, I own 
 
 His dispensation, howsoever harsh. 
 
 To my hard heart, to my rebellious soul 
 
 Needful and salutary! His dread rod 
 
 Paternal, lo, I kissj and to the stroke 
 
 Severe, submissive thankfully resign ! 
 
 It weans me from the world; it proves how vain. 
 
 How poor the life of erring man ! hath taught. 
 
 Experimentally hath taught, to look 
 
 With scorn, with triumph upon death ; to wish 
 
 The moment come ! Oh were that moment come. 
 
 When, launch'd from all that's sinful here below. 
 
 Securely I shall sail along the tide 
 
 Of glorious eternity ! My friends, 
 
 Belov'd and honour'd, oh that we were launch'd. 
 
 And sailing happy there, where shortly all 
 
 Must one day sail ! Oh that in peaceful port 
 
 We all were landed 1 all together safe 
 
 In everlasting amity and, love 
 
 With God, our God ; our pilot through the storms 
 
 Of this life's sea : ^But why the frivolous wish ? 
 
 Set a few suns, a few more days decline.
 
 THOUGHTS IN PRISON. 169 
 
 Futurity. 
 
 And I shall meet you. Oh the gladsome hour 1 
 Meet you in glory, nor with flowing tears 
 Afflicted drop my pen, and sigh Adieu ! 
 
 EJTD OF THE FIFTH WEEK 
 
 In a postscript to a friend, the Author writes thus : 
 I forgot to request my good friend to tell Mr. Hanway, that 
 in one of my little melancholy Poems, writtert in this dreary 
 place, I have made such mention of him as I think his attendon 
 to the improvement of jails demands : ^I'hat I earnestly press 
 him, as a Chrisrian and a Man, to pursue that improvement with 
 zeal : ITiat -much, very much is to be done : And that while 
 the state of prisons remains as it is, the legklature has some 
 reason to charge itself with the greater robberies, &c. com- 
 mitted : For the offenders for petty crimes are here hardened in 
 almost every species of vice, and turned out, necessary plunderers 
 of the public, from the depravity of their unaltered dbposition, 
 and the deficiency of proper employment. I have felt much on 
 this subject since I have been here, and expressed something of 
 it in the Poem, Week the lliird. See page 66, 67, &c.
 
 PIECES 
 
 FOUND AMOKGST THE AUTHOR'S PAPERS IN FRISOJf, 
 WITH 
 
 HIS LAST PRAYER. 
 
 I. THE ADMONITION. 
 
 Afflicted prisoner, whosoe'er thou art. 
 
 To this lone room unhappily confin'd ; 
 Be thy first business here to search thy heart. 
 
 And probe the deep corruptions of thy mind ! 
 
 Struck with the foul transgressions thou hast wrought. 
 With sin, the source of all thy worldly woe ; 
 
 To shame, to sorrow, to conviction brought^ 
 Oh, fall before the throne of mercy low ! 
 
 With true repentance pour thy soul: in prayer. 
 And fervent plead the Saviour's cleansing blood ; 
 
 Faith's ardent cry will pierce the Father's ear. 
 And Chj-ist's a plea which cannot be wjthstoo^l '
 
 II. SCRIPTURE-PENITENTS. 
 
 A inAGHEMT. 
 
 First in the list of penitents we place 
 
 The sinful parent of our sinful race ; 
 
 Who, by temptation foil'd, and man's first foe, 
 
 ** Brought death into the world, and all our woe 1 " 
 
 Transgression's debt how deeply does he pay I 
 Depriv'd of innocence ; to death a prey ; 
 From Paradise expell'd ; to toil assign'd, 
 Toil of the fainting frame and sick'ning mind ! 
 And doom'd to shed, for near a thousand years. 
 O'er fall'n descendants penitential tears ! 
 
 Tims seiz'd the triple league * on mortal man. 
 And thus. Repentance, thy sad reign began. 
 
 Yet, awful Power ! how blest beneath thy sway. 
 Who feel Contrition's dictates, and obey ! 
 Their vicious deviations who detest. 
 And hold Faith's cross, all humbled, to their breast ! 
 From God's lov'd presence then they need not fly f ; 
 Nor ope in wrath the flood-gates of the sky : 
 
 * Siu, Sorrow, and Death. t As Cain, Gen. iv. 14, 16.
 
 172 PIECES. 
 
 A Fragment. 
 
 For since to man perfection was deny'd. 
 By thee his deep demerits are supply'd ; 
 And, led by thee a suppliant to the throne. 
 The God of mercy looks with pity down. 
 Smiles on the mourner, and delights to prove 
 How free his grace, and how triumphant love ! 
 
 Eternal proof! See, bath'd in floods of tears. 
 Where David foremost in thy train appears : 
 How deep his crime, the prophet pictures well ; 
 How deep his penitence, those sorrows tell ! 
 That, whether to deplore the crime, or bless. 
 We stand suspended ; since its evil less, 
 Lese bright his soul's ingenuous grief had shone. 
 And less at once his comfort, and our own ! 
 
 Hear, like a torrent how his sorrows roll. 
 Conviction's tempest tearing up his soul ! 
 Hear, sad and solemn, to the mournful strings, 
 In trembling anguish, how he weeps and sings ! 
 
 " Mercy, oh mercy. Lord ! with hinnble heart ! 
 
 " For thy known pity's sake, mercy I pray ! 
 ** Boundless in tender mercies as Thou art, 
 
 " Take, Lord ! oh take my foul offence away ! 
 
 ** Oh, from my loathsome guilt, wash, cleanse my soul, 
 " Remove, dear Father, each defiling stain : 
 
 " Guilty, oh, guilty, Lord ! I own the wiiole ; 
 *f I 8CC, I feel it; all excuse is vain.
 
 1>IECES. 173 
 
 A Fragment. 
 
 " Against Thee, Lord ! ev'n Thee, have I transgress'd ; 
 
 *' Lo, self-convicted, I before Thee fall ! 
 " Just are thy words ; their tmth is thus confess'd ; 
 
 " Just are thy judgments I Sinners are we all. 
 
 " Prone to offend, or ere to birth 1 came, 
 
 " My mother, when conceiving, gave me guilt ; 
 
 '* Shapen in sin was my corrupted frame, 
 
 " When in the womb that wond'rous frame was built. 
 
 " But thou, of purer eyes than guilt to view, 
 " Thou wilt accept the soul's sincere desire ; 
 
 *' Pardon the past, the humble heart renew, 
 " And wisdom by thy secret one inspire. 
 
 *' Then listen to my cry ; and oh, my God, 
 
 " Purge me with hyssop, and I pure shall growj 
 
 " Wash me, foul leper, in the mystic blood, 
 " And whiter I shall be than whitest snow. 
 
 " Again the voice of gladness let me hear, 
 " Thy voice of pardoning love, for it is sweet j 
 
 ** The soul dejected so shall thou uprear, 
 
 " The worm which, crush'd, lies trembling at thy feet 
 
 * Hide from my sins ^the objects of thy hate, 
 " Oh, hide thy face, and blot them from thy view : 
 
 ** A clean heart, God of grace, in me create, 
 *' And a right spirit in my soul renevr !
 
 174 lIECES, 
 
 A Fragment. 
 
 -. -^^= ^= 
 
 " From thy lov'd presence let me not be driven ; 
 
 " Let me not lose thy blessed spirit's aid ; 
 " Again the joy of thy salvation giv'n, 
 
 " Uphold, support, sustain my heart dismay 'd, 
 
 " Then, of thy pardoning mercy satisfy'd, 
 
 " Thy pardoning mercy loud will I proclaim : 
 
 " So shall transgressors, taught by me, confide 
 " In thy compassions ; turn, and bless thy name. 
 
 " Ah ! my soxil shudders ! From the guilt of blood, 
 " Oh, from blood-guiltiness deliver me ! 
 
 ^' Oh God, deliver my salvation's God, 
 " And praise unceasing will I pay to thee. 
 
 " Permit my lips, now clos'd by guilt and shame, 
 ** Thy pardoning love, Jehovah, to express ; 
 
 " Then to thy list'ning vtorld I'll tell thy name, 
 " Proclaim thy praise, and sing thy righteousness. 
 
 ** For crimes like mine no offerings can atone j 
 " The gift of outward sacrifice is vain : 
 
 " Could these avail, before thy righteous throne, 
 " Whole hecatombs I gladly would have slain. 
 
 " The contrite spirit and the sighs sincere, 
 
 " Which from the broken bleeding heart arise, 
 
 " To thee more pleasing sacrifices are ; 
 
 " Are gifts, my God, which thou wilt not despise.
 
 PIECES. 175 
 
 A Fragment. 
 
 " Hear then, and save \ and td my people. Lord, 
 
 '* Thy saving mercy graciously extend ! 
 " Oh let our Zion live in thy regard ; 
 
 " The walls of our Jerusalem defend ! 
 
 " So shall the righteous to thy temple go, 
 
 " And joyful bring their offering and their praise : 
 
 " So shall the blood of lambs in plenty flow, 
 " And incense on thy altar copious blaze *." 
 
 With joy, with grief> the penitent I siee. 
 Offending Heav'n, yet Heav'n-absolv'd for me ! 
 Oh while, like his, I feel my guilt and shame. 
 Be my repentance and my grief the same ! 
 Then shall the truth which cheer'd his heart be mine j 
 Thy God has pardon'd thee, and life is thine. 
 
 But hark, my soul, what melancholy sound 
 Re-echoes from the dungeon's dark profound ! 
 Hear, sympathetic hear : A King complains, 
 Fall'n from his throne, a prisoner, and in chains ! 
 
 " God of the world, at length thy nde I own, 
 *' And prostrate fall before thy boundless throne : 
 ** The power resistless, trembling I confess : 
 ** In threat'nings awful, but in love no less ! 
 
 %e Psalm 51, and CJhristian's Magarine, Vol. III. p. 134.
 
 176 PIECES. 
 
 A Fragment. 
 
 *' Oh what a blessing has that love assign'd, 
 " By penitence to heal the wounded mind ! 
 " By penitence to sinners, who like me^ 
 '^' More than th' unntimber'd sands that shore the sea j 
 " My crimes acknowledge j which, of crimson dye, 
 " In all their scarlet horrors meet my eye! 
 
 " Oh eye, unworthy of the light of Heav'n : 
 " Oh sins too mountainous to be forgiv'n : 
 " Oh rebel to the law and love divine, 
 " How justly God's severest vengeance thine! 
 " But oh, I bend my heart's obedient knee, 
 " In supplication. Lord, for grace from Thee ! 
 " Yes, I have sinn'd, and I confess the whole 
 " Forgive me then, nor cast away my soul ! 
 " Sve me from evil, from thine anger save, 
 " And snatch me from the dark, untimely grave ! 
 
 " Friend of the contrite. Thou wilt pardon give : 
 " A monument of mercy I shall live ! 
 " And worthless as I am, for ever prove, 
 " That true repentance leads to saving love ! 
 " That true repentance tunes to praise the heart, 
 " And in the choir of Heaven shall bear an ample 
 " part* !" 
 
 * See Prayer of Manasseh, in the Apocrypha, next to the lirsl 
 book of Maccabees; and compare 2 Chron. xxxiii. 21, &c.
 
 PIECES. 177 
 
 A Fragment. 
 
 Thus, by affliction's deep correction taught, 
 Manasseh to the Lord for mercy sought : 
 By the kind chastening of a Father's rod. 
 Brought to the knowledge of himself and God 
 Happy affliction, for such knowledge given ; 
 And blest the dungeon which led thus to Heaven ! 
 
 15
 
 III. REFLECTIONS. 
 
 (unfinished.) 
 
 Here, secluse from worldly pleasure. 
 In this doleful place confin'd 
 
 Come, and let's improve the leisure ; 
 Meditate, my thoughtful mind ! 
 
 Soul alike and body sharing. 
 How have I the one forgot ! 
 
 While for t'other only caring ; 
 Lo ! my miserable lot ! 
 
 Yet the one I so much cherish, 
 
 Doom'd to death when giv'n to life. 
 
 Soon, perhaps, must sink and perish. 
 Dust to dust must end the strife I 
 
 From a tedious tofir returning. 
 
 Into distant foreign land. 
 How my anxious heart is burning 
 
 News of home to understand !
 
 TO MY FRIENDS, 
 
 ESPECIALLY OP 
 
 THE CHARITABLE SOCltTtES, 
 
 ON THEIR SOLICITUDE. 
 
 Ah, my lov'd friends ! why all this care for qne 
 To life so lost, 9o totally undone, 
 Whose meat and drink are only bitter tcafs, 
 Nights pass'd in sorrow, mornings wak'd to cares ; 
 Whose deep offence sits heavy on his soul. 
 And thoughts self-torturing in deep tumult roll ! 
 
 Could you, by all your labours so humane, 
 Fronfi this dread prison his deliverance gain j 
 Could you, by kind exertions of your love. 
 To generous pardon royal mercy move. 
 Where should he fly ! where hide his wretched head. 
 With shame so cover'd, so to honour dead ! 
 
 Spare then the task, and, as he longs to die, \ 
 
 Set free the captive, let his spirit fly, \ 
 
 Enlarg'd and happy, to liis native sky ! 7 
 
 Not doubting mercy from his grace to find. 
 Who bled upon the cross for all mankind.
 
 180 PIECES. 
 
 On their Solicitude. 
 
 But if it must not be, if Heaven's high will 
 Ordains him yet a duty to fulfil. 
 
 Oh may each breath, while God that breath shall spare. 
 Be yours in gratitude, be Heaven's in prayer ! 
 Deep as his sin, and low as his offence. 
 High be his rise through humblest penitence ! 
 
 While, life or death, mamkind at least shall learn 
 From his sad story and your kind concern. 
 That works of mercy, and a zeal to prove 
 By sympathetic aid the heart of love. 
 On earth itself a sure reward obtain ; 
 Nor e'er fall pity's kindly drops in vain ! 
 
 I live a proof 1 and dying, round my urn 
 Affliction's family will crowd and mourn : 
 " Here rests our friend," if, weeping o'er my grave. 
 They cry 'tis all the epitaph I crave.
 
 THE 
 
 CONVICT'S ADDRESS 
 
 TO BIS 
 
 UNHAPPY BRETHREN: 
 
 DEIITEHED IN THE CHAPEL OF NEWGATE, ON FRIDAY, 
 JUNE 6, 1777. 
 
 BY WILLIAM DODD, L.L.D. 
 
 I acknowledge my faults: and my Sin is ever before me. 
 
 Psalm li. 3.
 
 TO THE 
 
 REVEREND MR. VILLETTE, 
 
 ORDINARY OF NEWGATE. 
 Reverend Sir, 
 The following' Address owes its present public 
 appearance to you. I read it to you after it was 
 composed j and you thought it proper to be deli- 
 vered, as was intended. You heard it delivered, 
 and are pleased to think that its publication will 
 be useful. To a poor abject worm, like myself, 
 this is a sufficient inducement to that publication ; 
 and I heartily pray God, that in your hands it 
 may frequently and eifectually administer to the 
 instruction and comfort of the miserable. 
 
 I am. Dear Sir, 
 With my sincerest thanks for your humane 
 and friendly attention. 
 Your truly sorrowful 
 and much afflicted Brother in Christ, 
 
 WILLIAJVI DODD. 
 
 Friday, June 6, 1777.
 
 AN ADDRESS, cS:c. 
 
 My dear and unhappy Fellow Prisoners, 
 
 CoMsiDEKiNC my peculiar drcitmstanccs and situation, I 
 cannot think myself justified, if I do not deliver to yoa, in sin- 
 cere Christian love, some of my scrioas thoughts on oar porcsent 
 awful state. 
 
 In the sixteenth chapter of the Acts of the Aposde*, you 
 read a memorable story respecting Paul and Silas, who, for 
 preaching the Gospel, were cast by magistrates into prison, 
 ver. 23. and, after having received many stripes, were com- 
 mitted to the jailor, vrith a strict charge to keep them safely. 
 Accordingly he thmst them into the inner prison, and made 
 their feet feet in the stocks. At midnight Panl and Silas, sup- 
 ported by the testimony of a good conscience, prayed and sung 
 prayers to God, and the prisoners heard them ; and suddenly 
 there was a great earthquake, so that the fouiidations uf the 
 prison were shaken ; and immediately all the doors were opened, 
 and every one's chains were loosed. Tlie keeper of the prison 
 awaking out of his sleep, and seeing the prison doors open, in 
 the greatest distress, as might well be imagined, drew hit 
 sword, and would have killed himself, supposing that the 
 prisoners had been fled. But Paul crie<l with a loud voice. Do 
 thyself no harm, for we are all here. ^ITie keeper calling for a 
 light, and finding his prisoners thns freed from their bonds by 
 the impereeptiblie agency of divine power, was irresbtibly con- 
 vinced that these men were not offenders against the law, 
 kut mart^Ts to the truth: be spi-ang in tbereibre, and
 
 184 AN ADDRESS. 
 
 came trembling, and fell down before Paul and Silas, and 
 brought them out and said, " Sirs, What must I do to be 
 saved ? " 
 
 " What must I do to be saved ? " is the important question, 
 which it becomes every human being to study, from the first hour 
 of reason to the last ; but which we, my fellow-prisoners, ought 
 to consider, with particular diligence and intenseness ot medita- 
 tion. Had it not been forgotten or neglected by us, we had 
 never appeared in this place. A little time for reco lection and 
 amendment is yet allowed us by the mercy of the law Of this 
 little time let no particle be lost. Let us fill our remaining life 
 with all the duties which our present condition allows us to 
 practise. Let us make one earnest effort for salvation ! And 
 oh ! heavenly Father, who desireth not the death of a sinner, 
 grant that this effort may not be in vain. 
 
 To teach others what they must do to be saved, has long 
 been my employment and profession. You see with what con- 
 fiision and dishonour I now stand before you -no more in the 
 pulpit of instruction, but on this humble seat with yourselves. 
 You are not to consider me now as a man authorised to form 
 the manners, or direct the conscience, and speaking with the 
 authority of a pastor to his flock I am here guilty, like your- 
 selves, for a capital offence ; and sentenced, like yourselves, to 
 public and shameful death. My profession, which has given 
 ine stronger convictions of my duty than most of you can be 
 supposed to have attained, and has extended my views to the 
 consequences of wickedness farther than your observation is 
 Bkely to have reached, has loaded my sins with peculiar aggra- 
 vations; and I entreat you to join your prayers with mine, fiiat 
 my sorrow may be proportionate to my guilt ! 
 
 I am now, like you, inquiring what I must do to be saved ! 
 and stand here to commimicate to you what that inquiry sug- 
 gests. Hear me with attention, my fellow-prisoners; and in 
 yoHT melancholy hours of retirement, consider well what I offer 
 to you from the sincerity of my good will, and fixHn the deepest 
 conviction of a penitent heart. 
 
 Salvation is promised to us Christians, on the terms of Faitli, 
 Obedience, and Repentance. I shall therefore endeavour to 
 show how, in the short mterval between this moment and death, 
 we may exert faith, perform obedience, and exercise repentance, 
 in a manner which our lieavenly Father may, in his infinite 
 mercy, vouchsafe to accept.
 
 AN ADDRESS. 185 
 
 I. Faith Is the foundation of all Clirisdan virtue. It is that, 
 witiiout wliich it is impossible to please Ood. I shall therefore 
 consider^ first, how faitli is to be particularly exerted by us in 
 our present state. 
 
 Faith is a full and undoubting confidence in the declarations 
 made by God in the Holy Scriptures ; a sincere reception of 
 the doclrines taught by our blessed Saviour ; with a firm assur- 
 ance that he died to take away the sins of the world, and that 
 we have, each of us, a part in the boundless benefits of the uni- 
 Tersal Sacrifice. 
 
 To this faith we must have recourse at all times, but par- 
 ticularly if we find ourselves tempted to despair. If thoughts 
 arise in our minds, which suggest that we have sinned beyond 
 the hope of pardon, and that therefore it is vain to seek for re- 
 conciliation by repentance, we must remember how Ood 
 wilieth tliat every man should be saved, and that those who 
 obey liis call, however late, shall not be rejected. If we are 
 tempted to think that the injuries we have done are unrepaired, 
 and therefore repentance is vain, let us remember that the re- 
 paration, which is impossible is not required ; that sincerely to 
 will, is to do, in the sight of Him to whom all hearts arc open ; 
 and that what is deficient in our endeavours, is supplied by the 
 merits of Him who died to redeem us. 
 
 Yet let us be careful, lest an erroneous opinion of the all- 
 kufficiency of our Saviour's merits lull us into carelessness and 
 security. His merits are indeed all-sufficient! But he has pre- 
 scribed the terms on which they are lo operate. He died to 
 save sinners, but to save only those sinners that repent. Peter, 
 who denied him, was forgiven ; but he obtained his pardon by 
 weeping bitterly. Tliey who live in perpetual regularity of 
 duty, and are free from any gross or visible transgression, are 
 yet but unj)rofitable servants: What then are we, whose 
 crimes are hastening us to the grave before our time .' Let us 
 work with fear and trembling, but still let us endeavour to work 
 out our salvation. Let us hope without presumption; let us 
 fear without desperation , and let our faith animate us to that 
 which we were to consider. 
 
 Secondly, " Sincere Obedience to the laws of God." Our 
 obedience, for the short time yet remaining, is restrained to a 
 narrow circle. Those duties which are called social and relative, 
 u-c tor the most part out of our power. We can contribute 
 very little to the geoeral happiness of maaldad, while on those.
 
 186 AN ADDRESS. 
 
 wJiom kindred and friendship have allied to us, we have brought 
 disgrace and sorrow. We can only benefit the public by an 
 example of contrition, and fortify our friends against temptation 
 by warmng and admonition. 
 
 The obedience left us now to practise is, " submission to 
 'tke will of God, and calm acquiescence in his wisdom and his 
 justice." We must not allow ourselves to repine at those 
 miseries which have followed our offences, but suifer, with 
 silent humility and resigned patience, the punishment which 
 we deserve ; remembering that, according to the apostle's de- 
 cision, no praise is due to them who bear with jratience to be 
 buffeted for their fault. 
 
 When we consider the wickedness of our past lives, and the 
 danger of having been summoned to the final judgment without 
 preparation, w shall, I hope, gradually rise so much above the 
 gross conceptions of human nature, as to return thanks to God 
 for what once seemed the most dreadful of all evils our de- 
 tection and conviction! We shrink back by immediate and 
 instinctive tenx)r from the public eye, turned as it is upon us 
 with indignation and contempt. Imprisonment is afflictive, 
 and ignominious death is fearful ! But let us compare our 
 condition with that which our actions might reasonably liave 
 incurred. Tlie robber might have died in the act of violence, 
 by lawful resistance ; the man of fraud miglit have sunk into 
 the grave while he was enjoying the gain of his artifice, 
 and where then had been our hope? W^e have now leisure 
 for thought ; we have opportunities of instruction ; and, 
 whatever we suffer from offended laws, may yet reconcile our- 
 selves to God, who, if we sincerely seek him, will assuredly be 
 found. 
 
 But how are we to seek the Lord .-' By the way which he 
 himself hath appointed; by humble, fervent, and frequent 
 prayer. Some hours of worship are appointed us; let us duly 
 observe them. Some assistance to our devotion is supplied ; let 
 us thankfully accept it. But let us not rest in formality and 
 prescription ; let us call upon God night and day. When, in 
 the review of the times which we have past, any offence arises 
 to our thoughts, let us humbly implore forgiveness; and for 
 those faults (and many they are and must be) which we cannot 
 recollect, let us solicit mercy in general petitions. But it 
 must be our constant care that we pray not merely with our 
 lips ; but that when we kuneat our sins, we are really humbled
 
 AN ADDRESS, tf 
 
 in selt-abhorrence ; and that, when we call for mercy, 
 we raise our thoughts to hope and trust in the goodness of 
 God, and the merits of our blessed Saviour Jesus Christ. 
 
 The reception of the holy sacrament, to which we shall 
 be called, in the most solemn manner, perhaps a few hours, 
 before we die, is the highest act of Christian worship. At 
 that awful moment it will become us to drop for ever all 
 worldly thoughts, to fix our hopes solely upon Christ, whose 
 death is represented, and to consider ourselves us no longer 
 
 connected with mortality. And, possibly, it may please 
 
 God to afford us some consoladon, some secret intimations 
 of acceptance and forgiveness. But these radiations of favour 
 are not always felt by the sincerest penitents. To the greater 
 part of those whom angels stand ready to receive, nothing is 
 granted in this world beyond rational hope; and with hope 
 founded, on promise, we may well be satisfied. 
 
 But such promises of salvation are made only to the peni- 
 tent. It is requisite then that we consider, 
 
 Thirdly, " How Repentance is to be exercised." Repent- 
 ance, in the general state of Chrisrian life, is such a sorrow 
 for sin as produces a change of manners, and an amend- 
 ment of life. It is that disposition of mind, by which 
 be who stole steals no more ; by which the wicked man 
 tumeth away firom liis wickedness, and doth that which is 
 lawful and right. And to the man thus reformed it is ex- 
 pressly promised, that he shall save his soul alive t. Of 
 thb repentance the proofs are visible, and the reality certain, 
 always to the penitent, and commonly to the church with 
 which he communicates ; because the state of the mind is dis- 
 covered by the outward actions. But of the repentance wliich 
 
 * See Job, chap. xlii. ver. 6. 
 
 t There cannot be a stronger exemplification of this idea 
 than the conduct of the jailor, who uttered the question wiili 
 which we commenced our inquiry What shall I do to be 
 saTe<l ? What a change of mind and maimers was wrought ia 
 him by the power of God ? Read Acts, chap. xvi.
 
 188 AN ADDRESS. 
 
 our condition requires and admits, no such evidence can apf)ear ; 
 lor to us many crimes and many virtues are made impossible 
 by confinement ; and the shortness of the time which is before 
 us, gives little power even to ourselves, of distinguishing the 
 efforts of terror from those of conviction ; of deciding whether 
 oiu: present sorrow for sin proceeds from abhorrence of guilt, 
 or dread of punishment; whether the violence of our inordi- 
 nate passions be totally subdued by the fear of God, or 
 only crushed and restrained by the temporary force of present 
 calamity. 
 
 Our repentance is like that of other sinners on the death- 
 bed ; but with this advantage, that our danger is not greater, 
 and our strength is more; our faculties are not impaired by 
 weakness of body. We come to the great work, not withered 
 by pains, nor clouded by the fumes of disease, but with 
 minds capable of continued attention, and with bodies, of 
 which we need have no care! We may therefore better 
 discharge this tremendous duty, and better judge of our own 
 performance. 
 
 Of the eiBcacy of a death-bed repentance many have dis- 
 puted ; but we have no leisure for controversy. Fix in your 
 minds this decision, " Repentance is a change of the heart ; of 
 an evil to a good disposition." When that change is made, 
 repentance is complete. God will consider that life as amended, 
 which would have been amended, if he had spared it. Re- 
 pentance in the sight of man, even of the penitent, is not known 
 but by its fruits ; but our Creator sees the fruit in the blossom, 
 or the seed. He knows those resolutions which are fixed, 
 those conversions wliich would be permanent; and will re- 
 ceive them who are qualified by holy desires for works of 
 righteousness, without exacting from them those outward duties 
 which the shortness of their lives hindered them from per- 
 fonning. 
 
 Nothing therefore remains, but that we apply with all our 
 speed, and with all our strength, to rectify our desires and purify 
 our thoughts ; that we set God before us in all his goodness and 
 terrors ; that we consider him as the Father and the Judge o( 
 ail the earth ; as a Father, desirous to save ; as a Judge, who 
 cannot pardon unrepented iniquity; that we fall down before 
 himself condemned, and excite in our hearts an intense de- 
 testation of those crimes which have provoked him ; with vehe- 
 meat and steady resolutions, that if life were granted us, it
 
 AN ADDRESS. 189 
 
 iliould be spent hereafter in the practice of our duty*; 
 that we pray tlie Giver of grace to strengthen and im- 
 press these holy thoughts, and to accept our rc|)entance, 
 though late, and in its beginnings viok'ut; that we improve 
 every good motion by diligent prayer; and having declared 
 and confinned t our faith by the holy coninuinion, we de- 
 liver ourselves into his hands, in firm hop**, that he who 
 
 created and redeemed us will not suficr us to jxirish. Rom. 
 
 V, 8. viii. 32. 
 
 Tlie condition, without which forgiveness is not to be ob- 
 tained, is tliat we forgive others. There is always a danger 
 lest men, fresh from a trial in which life has been lost, should 
 remember with resentment and malignity the prosecutor, the 
 witnesses, or the judges. It is indeed scarce possible, that 
 with all the prejudices of an interest so weighty and so affect- 
 ing, the convict should thinlc otherwise than that he has been 
 treated, in some part of the process, with unnecessary se- 
 verity. In this opinion he is perhaps singular, and therefore 
 probably mistaken. IJut there is no time for disquisition : we 
 must try to find the shortest way to j)eace. It is easier to foi^ 
 give than to reason aright. He that has been injuriousK' or 
 lumecessarily harassed, has one opportunity more of proving 
 his sincerity, by forgiving the wrong, and praying for his 
 enemy. 
 
 It is the duty of a penitent to rep^r, so far as he has 
 
 * See 2 Cor. chap. v. 14, IH. 
 
 t I would have this expression to be particularly attended to. 
 While as a dying man, and with ail possible sincerity of soul, 
 I add, that, if I could wish to declare my faith, I know not of 
 any words in which I could do it so well, and so jierfectly to 
 ni\' satisfaction, as in the commimion senice of our church ; 
 and if I would wish to confirm that faith, I know nut of any 
 apjwinted method so thoroughlj' adapted to that end of parti- 
 cipation in that communion itself See particularly in this ser- 
 vice, the Exhortation, Confession, Prayer beginning, " We do 
 not presume," &c Consecration and Prayer after receiving, 
 " O Lord and heavenly Father," &c. Convicts should dili- 
 gently and repeatedly read over the service before they com- 
 lounicatc.
 
 190 AN ADDRESS. 
 
 the power, the injury which he has done. What we can do, 
 is commonly nothing more than to leave tlie world an example 
 of contrition. On the dreadful day, when the sentence of the 
 law has its full force, some will be found to have affected a 
 shameless bravery, or negligent intrepidity. Such is not the 
 proper behaviour of a convicted criminal. To rejoice in tor- 
 tures is the privilege of a martyr; to meet death with in- 
 trepidity is the right only of innocence, if in any human being 
 innocence could be found. Of him whose life is shortened by 
 his crimes, the last duties are humility and self-abasement. 
 We owe to God sincere repentance ; we owe to man the ap- 
 pearance of repentance. We ought not to propagate an 
 opinion, that he who lived in wickedness can die with courage. 
 If the serenity or gaiety with which some men have ended 
 a life of guilt were unfeigned, they can be imputed only to ig- 
 norance or stupidity, or, what is more horrid, to voluntary 
 intoxicarion : if they were artificial and hypocritical, they are 
 acts of deception, the useless and unprofitable crimes of pride 
 unmortified, and obstinacy unsubdued. 
 
 There is yet another crime possible, and, as there is 
 reason to believe, sometimes committed in the last moment, 
 on the margui of eternity. Men have died with a stedfast 
 denial of crimes, of which it is very difficult to supjxse tliera 
 innocent. By what equivocation or reserve they may have 
 reconciled their consciences to falsehood, if their consciences 
 were at all consulted, it is impossible to know; but if they 
 thought that, when they were to die, they paid their legal 
 forfeit, and that the world had no farther demand upon them ; 
 that therefore they might, by keeping their own secrets, try to 
 leave behind them a disputable reputation ; and that the false- 
 hood was harmless because none were injured, they had very 
 little considered the nature of society. One of the principal 
 parts of national feUcity arises from a wise and impartial ad- 
 ministration of justice. Every man reposes upon the tribunals 
 of his country the stability of possession, and the serenity of 
 life. He therefore who unjustly exposes the courts of judicatiure 
 to suspicion, either of partiality or error, not only does an 
 injury to those who dispense the laws, but diminishes the pub- 
 lic confidence in the laws themselves, and shakes the foun- 
 dation of public tranquillity. 
 
 For my own part, I confess, with deepest compimction, 
 the crime which has brought me to this place; and admit 
 ^e justice of my sentence, while I am sinking under its so.
 
 AN ADDRESS. 191 
 
 verity. And I earnestly exhort you, my fellow-prisoners, 
 to acknowledge tlic offences which have been already protcd ; 
 and to bequeath to our country that confidence in pub- 
 lic justice, without which tliere can be neither peace nor 
 safety. 
 
 As few men suffer for their first offences, and most convicts 
 arc conscious of more crimes than have been brought within 
 judicial cognizance, it b necessary to uiquirc how far confession 
 ought to be extended. Peace of niuid, or desire of iastruction, 
 may soinetinies demand, that to tlie minister, whose counsel b 
 requested, a long course of evil life should be discovered ; but of 
 this every man must delenuine for himself. To the public, 
 every man who departs from hie, b obliged to confess those 
 acts which have brought, or may bring, unjust suspicion upon 
 otliers; and to convey such intbrmation as may enable those 
 who have suffered losses to obtain restitution. 
 
 Whatever good remains in our power we must diligently 
 perform. We must prevent, to the utmost of our power, all 
 the evil consequences of our crimes; we must forgive all who 
 have injured us: we must, by fervency of prajcr, and con- 
 stancy in meditation, endeavour to repress all worldly passions, 
 and generate in our minds that love of goodness and hatred of 
 sin, which may lit us for the society of heavenly minds. And, 
 finally, we must commend and intrust our souls to Him who 
 died for the sins of men ; witli earnest wishes and humble hopes, 
 that he will admit us with the labourers who entered the vine- 
 yard at the last hour, and associate us with the thief whom 
 he pardoned on the cross ! 
 
 To this great end you will not refuse to unite with me, on 
 bended knees, and wiUi humbled hearts, in fervent prayer to the 
 throne of grace! May the Father of mercy hear our sup- 
 plications, and have compassion upon us! 
 
 " O Almighty Lord God, the righteous Judge of all the 
 earth, who in thy providential justice dost frequently inflict 
 severe vengeance upon sinners in this life, that tliou mayest, by 
 their sad examples, effectually deter others from committing the 
 like heinous offences ; and that they themselves, truly repenting 
 jof their faults, may escape the condemnation of hell,- look down 
 iii mercy upon us, thy sorrowful servants, whom thou hast suf- 
 fered to become the unhappy objects of offended justice in tills 
 world. 
 
 " Gie us a thorough sense of all those CYJI thought?.
 
 tW AN ADDRESS. 
 
 words, and works, which have so provoked thy patience, .that 
 thou hast been pleased to permit this public and shameful 
 judgment to fall upon us ; and grant us such a portion of 
 grace and godly sincerity, that we may heartily confess and 
 unfeignedly repent of every breach of those most holy laws and 
 ordinances, which if a man do, he shall even live in them. 
 
 " Let no root of bitterness and malice, no habitual and 
 deadly sin, cither of omission or commission, remain undisturbed 
 in our hearts ! But enable us to make our repentance universal, 
 without the least flattering or deceitful reserve, so that we may 
 clear our consciences before we close our eyes. 
 
 " And now that thou hast brought us within the view of 
 our long home, and made us sensible that the time of our 
 dissolution draweth near, endow us, we humbly pray thee, 
 O gracious Father, with such Christian fortitilde, that neither 
 the terrors of thy present dispensations, nor the remembrance 
 of our former sins, may liave power to sink our spirits into 
 a despondency of thy everlasting mercies in the adorable Son of 
 thy love. 
 
 " Wean our thoughts and affections, good Lord, from 
 all the vain and delusive enjoyments of this transitory world, 
 that we may not only with patient resignation submit to the 
 appointed stroke of death, but that oiu" faith and hope may 
 be so elevated, that we may conceive a longing desire to be 
 dissolved from these our earthly tabernacles, and to be with 
 Clirist, which b far better than all the happiness we can wish 
 for besides ! 
 
 " And in a due sense of our own extraordinary want of 
 forgiveness at thy hands, and of our utter unworthiness of the 
 very least of all thy favours of the meanest crumbs which 
 fall from thy table O blessed Lord Jesus, make us so truly 
 and universally charitable, that in an undissembled compliance 
 witJi thy own awful command and most endearing example, we 
 may both freely forgive and cordially pray for our most in- 
 veterate enemies, persecutors, and slanderers ! Forgive them, 
 O Lord, we beseech thee turn their hearts, and fill tliem with 
 thy love ! 
 
 "Thus may we humbly trust, our sorrowful prayers and 
 tears will be acceptable in thy sight : thus shall we be qua- 
 lified, through Christ, to exchange this dismal bodily confine- 
 ment (and these uneasy fetters) for the glorious liberty of the 
 sons of God ; and tlius shall our legal doom upon earth be
 
 AN ADDRESS. 19J 
 
 changed into a comfortable declaration of mercy in the highest 
 heavens ; and ail through thy most precious and aU-suflicient 
 merits. O blessed Saviour of mankind ! who with the Father, 
 and the Holy Ghost, livest and reignest ever, One God, world 
 without end. Amen *." 
 
 * See Rossell's Prisoner's Director; a work of some merit 
 and which I have endeavoured, in my melancholy hours of 
 leisure, to revise, and, (X humbly hope) improve ; and mean to 
 leave behind me, in the hands of the ordinary, as a small testi- 
 mony of my sincere, but very weak, endeavours for the best 
 weltare of unhappy men in confinement ; to whom I have written 
 general Address, to be prefixed to the new edition of Rossell.
 
 DR. DODD'S LAST PRAYER; 
 
 Written June 27. 
 IN THE NIGHT PREVIOUS TO HIS SUFFERING. 
 
 Great and glorious Lord God ! Thou Father of Mercies, and 
 God of all Comfort ! a poor and humble publican stands trem- 
 bling in thy awful presence ; and, mider the deep sense of in- 
 numerable transgressions, scarce dares so much as to lift up his 
 eyes, or to say, " Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner !" 
 
 For 1 have sinned, 'oh Lord ! I have most grievously sinned 
 against Thee ; sinned against light, agiunst conviction ; and by a 
 thousand, thousand offences, justly provoked thy \vrath and in- 
 dignation ! My sins are peculiarly aggravated, and their burden 
 more than ordinary oppressive to my soul, from the sight and 
 sense I have had of thy love, and firom the high and soleiim 
 obligations of my sacred character ! 
 
 But, oppressed with consciousness, and broken in heai't 
 under the sense of guilt, I come, oh Lord ! With earnest prajer 
 and tears, supplicating Thee, of thy mercy, to look upon me, 
 and forgive me for his precious merits sake, which are infinitely 
 more unbounded than even all the sins of a whole sinful world ! 
 By his cross and passion, I implore, to spare and deliver me, O 
 Lord! 
 
 Blessed be thy unspeakable goodness for that wonderful 
 display of divine love, on which alane b ray hope and my con- 
 fidence! Thou hast invited, oh blessed Redeemer! the burdened 
 and heavy laden, the sick in soul, and wearied with sin, to come 
 to Thee, and receive rest. Lord, I come ! Be it unto me ac-
 
 LAST PRAYER. 195 
 
 cording to thy infallible word ! Grant me thy prerions, thy in- 
 esriinable rest ! 
 
 Be with me, thou all-sufficient God, in the dreadful trial 
 through which I am to pass ! and graciously vouchsafe to fulfil 
 in me those precious promises which Thou in such fatherly kind* 
 ness, hast delivered to thy afflicted children ! Enable me to see 
 and adore thy disposing hand in this awful, but mournful event ; 
 and to contemplate at an humble distance, thy great example, 
 who did go forth, bearing thy cross, and endunng its shame, 
 under the consolitary assurance of the joy set before Thee ! 
 
 And oh ! ray triumphant Lord ! in the moment of death and 
 in the last hour of conflict, suffer me not to doubt or despond! 
 but sustain me in thy arms of love ; and oh, receive and pre- 
 sent faultless to thy Father, m the robe of thy righteousness, my 
 poor and unworthy soul, which thou hast redeemed with thy 
 most precious blood. 
 
 Thus commending myself and my eternal concerns into thy 
 most fathful hands, in firm hope of a happy reception into thy 
 kingdom : Oh my God, hear me, while 1 huiubly xtend my 
 supplications for others ; and pray, lliat thou wouldest bless the 
 King and all his family; that thou wouldest preserve the crown 
 in his house to endless generations, and make him the happy 
 minister of truth, of peace, and of prosperity to liis people! 
 Bless that people, O Lord ! and shine, as thou hast done, with 
 the light of thy favour, on this little portion of thy boundless 
 creation. Dimise more and more spirit of Christian piety 
 amongst all ranks and orders of men ; and in particular fill their 
 hearts with universal and undissembled love Love to thee, and 
 love to each other ! 
 
 Amidst the manifold mercies and blessings vouchsafed 
 through thy gracious influence thou Sovereign Ruler of all 
 hearts ! to so unworthy a worm, during this dark day of mj 
 sorrows, enable me to be thankful ; and in the sincerity of heart- 
 felt gratitude, to implore thine especial blessing on all my be- 
 loved fellow-creatures, who have by any means interested them- 
 selves in my preser\ation I May the prayers tliey have offered 
 for me, return in mercies on their ow n heads ! May the sym- 
 pathy they have shown, refresh and comtbrt their own hearts ! 
 And may all their good endeavours and kindness be amply re- 
 paid by a full supply of thy grace, and abundant aaastance to 
 them in their day of distress ; ^in their most anxious hours of 
 need ! 
 
 K8
 
 196 LAST PRAYER. 
 
 To the more particular and immediate instruments of thy 
 providential love and goodness to me, O vouchsafe to impart. 
 Author of all good, a rich supply of thy choicest comforts ! 
 Fill their hearts with thy love, and their lives with thy favour I 
 Guard them in every danger : sooth them in every sorrow : 
 bless them in every laudable undertaking : restore an hundred- 
 fold aU their temp>oral supplies to me and mine : and, after a 
 course of extensive utility, advance them, through the merits of 
 Jesus, to lives of eternal bliss. 
 
 Extend, great Father of the world, thy more especial care 
 and kindness to my nearer and most dear connections. Bless 
 with thy continual presence and protection my dear brother and 
 sister, and all their children and friends! Hold them in thy 
 hand of tender care and mercy ; and ^ve them to experience, 
 that in thee there is infinite loving kindness and truth ! Look 
 with a tender eye on all their temporal concerns ; and after Uvea 
 of faithfulness and truth, oh bear them to thy bosom, and unite 
 us together in thy eternal love ! 
 
 But oh, my adorable Lord and hope, suffer me in a more par- 
 ticular manner to offer up to thy sovereign and gracious care my 
 long-tried and most affectionate wife ! Husband of the widow, be 
 thou her support ! sustain and console her aflSicted mind ! enable 
 her with patient submission to receive all thy will ! and when, 
 in thy good time, thou hast perfected her for thy blessed king- 
 dom, unite again our happy and immortal spirits in celestial love, 
 as thou hast been pleased to unite us in sincere earthly affection ! 
 Lord Jesus, vouchsafe unto her thy peculiar groce and all-suffici- 
 ent consolation ! 
 
 If I have any enemies, oh, thou who diest for thy enemies^ 
 hear my prayers for them ! Forgive them all their ill-will to me, 
 and fill their hearts with thy love ! And, oh, vouchsafe abund- 
 antly to bless and save all those who have either wished or done 
 me evil! For^veme, gracious God! the wrong or injury I have 
 done to others ; and so forgive me my trespasses, as I fireely and 
 fully forgive all those who have in any degree trespassed against 
 me. I desu-e thy grace, to pmify my soul firom every taint of 
 malevolence ; and to fit me, by perfect love, for the society of 
 spirits, whose business and happiness is Ipve ! 
 
 Glory be to tliee, oh God! for all the blessings thou hast 
 granted me from the day of my creation until the present hour ; 
 1 feel and adore thy exceeding 'goodness in all ; and in this last 
 and closing affliction of my life, I acknowledge most humbly the
 
 LAST PRAYER. t9r 
 
 justice of thy fatherly correction, and bow my head with thank- 
 fulness for thy rod ! Great and good in all ; I adore and magnify 
 thy mercy ! I behold, in all, thy love manifestly displayed, and 
 rejoice that I am at once thy weature and thy redeemed ! 
 
 As such, O Lord, njy Creator and Redeemer, I commit my 
 soul into thy faithful hands! Wash it, and purify it in the blood 
 of thy Son from every defiling stain : perfect what is wanting in 
 it ; and grant me, poor, returning, weeping, wretched prodigal 
 grant me the lowest place in thj' heavenly house ; in and for his 
 sole and all-sufficient merits, the adorable Jesus ; wlio, with 
 the Father and the Holy Ghost, llveth and reigneth ever, one 
 Cod, world without end ! 
 
 Amen and Amen, Lord Jesus!
 
 LETTER 
 
 TO THE 
 
 REVEREND DR. DODD, 
 
 S}it to him during his Confinement in Newgate. 
 
 Dear Srn, 
 
 Let k not surprise you in this tremendous hour to bje accosted 
 by an old, perhaps forgotten, but still sympathising friend; 
 ITie world smiles in prosperity ; tlie Christian loves in adver- 
 sity ; and the hour of Nature's sorrow is the important period 
 fn such a friendship. 
 
 From the first moment the melancholy news had reached my 
 ear, how truly was my heart engaged in prayer and pity! I 
 anticipated the dreadful pangs which rend your soul ; and the 
 awful consideration, that these things were but the begiiming of 
 sorrow, was ready to draw blood from my heart, as well as tears 
 from my eyes. I turned to him from whom proceeds all that is 
 truly great and good, and was encouraged to entreat the merciful 
 Redeemer to look down with tender pity, and cause this dark 
 night to become the womb of a bright morning, yea, the brightest 
 your eyes have ever seen. 
 
 Erery stroke of your rod deeply affects me ; but above all, I 
 feel for your precious, your immortal soul.
 
 LtTl'ER. i9f 
 
 Will you permit me, my deai- Sir, to throw uide all reserve, 
 while treating on tliis important subject P Shall I prevail with you 
 to bear with the manner for the sake of the matter, and despise 
 not truth though ignorantly uttered? 
 
 I fear you have lived a long time in that friendship with tlie 
 world which the sjAit of God declares is emnity with hiraselC 
 However excellent some or many of your actions may have been, 
 you have rested in the letter, not in the spirit of Christiamty : 
 you. have been contented without the experimental knowledge 
 of those words, " He that is in Christ Jesus is a new creature.' 
 Your will, your affections, your desires and delights, have they 
 not all been fixed on earthly objects? llojoicing in the pos- 
 session, or mourning the disappoiiitmcut, your daily delight has 
 not been in the divine communications of the Holy Spirit ; 
 fellowship with God has not been your cbicfest joy ; the pursuit 
 of empty shadows found nearer access to your heart than the 
 noble choice of following the despised Nazarene. Think not, 
 dear Sir, I draw this judgment from the last unhappy event. 
 O, no ; tliat I only consider as the natural fruit of the luiregene- 
 rate heart. The point I aim at is, the want of that change, that 
 death unto sin, that new birth unto rightdousness, whereby the 
 children of w rath become the children of grace. St. Paul says, 
 *' I have fought the good fight, I have kept the faith :" therefore 
 he was willing to be offered ap, since nothing but a crown of 
 righteousness presented itself to hb opening prospect. He had 
 kept that faith which purificth the heart, overcometh the world, 
 and quencheth all the fiery darts of the evil one. 
 
 I remember, %\ hen I was about fourteen, the steason in which 
 I was favoured with your most intimate acquaintance, yon once 
 told a story which I sliall never forget, conceniiim one of the 
 Scots divines, who said on Ids death-bed, " It every stone, tim- 
 ber, and nail in this house, could s|)eak, they nould bear wit- 
 ness to the many hours of sweet commtniion my soul hath spent 
 with God therein." O, Sir, can the Ijeams of your house bear 
 witness that your enjoymetits have been such as eternity shall 
 ripen ! And this heavenly disposition, you must be sensible, can 
 alone fit us for the enjoyment of the New Jerusalem. No object 
 can give pleasure unless it meets witli a sense whicli suits and 
 apprehends it. The graui of com is more welcome to the fowl 
 than the richest pearl : So to the soul whose treasure is yet on 
 earth, the beauties of the lovely Jesus slilne in vain ! But, alas ? 
 who can break this adamantine chain ^ Who can lulock the
 
 800 LETTER. 
 
 heart bound down with twice ten thousand ties, and bring the 
 captive soul into the glorious liberty of the sons of God? 
 Can disappointment, can reproach, dishonour, loss, or even death 
 itself? Alas ! these may torment, but never change the heart ; 
 it is a sight of the crucified Jesus alone which breaks your heart 
 in pieces. This Jesus waits to do you good ; hear him saying, 
 Thou has destroyed thyself, but in me is thy help. O that you 
 would cry ; his ear attends the softest prayer. This is my fear, 
 lest you should forget there is no way into the shecpfold but 
 through the door, and no way of entering that door but know- 
 ing ourselves to be lost and undone creatures, whose ways have 
 been altogether perverse before him, and then to be saved by 
 faith in Christ alone. 
 
 How often has Christ appeared delightful even in a prison ! 
 Several have praised God for bringing them there, and by that 
 means awakening them to a knowledge of their lost estate, that 
 they might be made acquainted with a happiness till then un- 
 known. Adorable Jesus ! so work on the soul of this my un- 
 happy friend, display thy pardoning love, and write it on his 
 aching heart : 
 
 " No ; my best actions cannot save, 
 " But thou must cleanse e'en them; 
 
 " Yet when on thee I do believe, 
 " My worst shall not condemn." 
 
 I know not how to break off. My spirit deeply mourns 
 both for your present and approaching sufferings, and equally 
 for her who so sadly shares your every woe. Had you remained 
 in prosperity, nothing would have been farther from my thought, 
 than a renewal of acquaintance ; for I have found, in being de- 
 spised and trampled under foot of the great ones of the earth, 
 more solid peace, more lasting joy, than my warmest wishes 
 could ever have expected : but now I cannot forget you if I 
 would, I long Yor your salvation : Will you acknowledge, all the 
 wisdom of the world can never save you ? Will you look for 
 salvation from the mere mercy of God ? How many have gone 
 triumphantly to glory, even from under the hand of an execu- 
 tioner t My dear Sir, that triumph may be yours ; end if you 
 do not reject it, it surely shall. The king of terrors shall appear
 
 LETTER. 201 
 
 no longer terrible ; and your happy spirit, loosed from erery 
 earthly tie, and delighted with the freedom of the living water, 
 shall spring into eternity with so feeling a joy a< you have never 
 known in all your life. You have tried the world, and found it 
 empty. Never did man strive more for the honours of it than 
 you have done ; for that, you turned your back on the closest 
 followers of the Lamb, the little few despised indeed of roan, 
 but whose lives were hid with Christ in God ; for that you have 
 been conformed in all your life and conversation to the customs, 
 fashions, and maxims of it : but while you were a slave to man, 
 ungrateful man ! who neither thanked nor |)aid you, you slighted 
 Him who is able to cast both body and soul into hell. But, O, 
 the unbounded love of Jesus ! He blasted all your hopes ; He 
 chastened and corrected. For what end ! Only to convince jou 
 liow ready he is to receive and make you a beloved son. The 
 wicked have no bands in their death, they will not listen ta 
 awakening fears; but whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth: 
 yea, the body may be given up to suflfcr, that the spirit may be 
 saved in the day of the Lord. 
 
 I am not yet without hope, even for your life. It is founded 
 on this : I know the hearts of all are in the hand of my God, 
 firom the king on the throne to the beggar on the dunghill ; and 
 he tumeth them what way sover he will. I know, il you seek 
 but Daniel's faith, Daniel's God can shut the lion's mouth. If, 
 with Nebuchadnezzar you have learned to acknowledge the 
 Most High Ruler over all, he can restore you again to yotir 
 former state, or else take you to behold his glorj'. When I 
 consider your great talents, and how much you might have done 
 for God, I cannot help crying to the Lord once more to send 
 you into his vineyard with a changed heart full of the Holy 
 Ghost and power. And now, my dear Sir, what shall I say ? 
 My heart is full : I know not how to leave off : It is as though 
 my pen could not part from the paper. Nature shrinks from 
 that pang which is usually the sad attendant of a last farewell : 
 but Grace cries out. Yet there is hope. And eternity of jov 
 presents a kingdom where no horrid alarm of war shall break 
 our eternal repose ; where sorrow, death, and parting shall be 
 no more ; and the Royal Army of Cross-bearers, who have 
 washed their robes and made them white in the blood of 
 the Lamb, are ready to embrace and welcome you among 
 ^eiB. 
 
 k5
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 To that efficacious blood, with tears of love and sorrow, 
 I commit you ; and though with reluctance, I must now coi> 
 elude. 
 
 Your sincerely affectionate 
 
 and sympathising friend, 
 
 Mary Bosanquet. 
 Feb, 1777. 
 
 By a series of Correspondence, almost weekly, from the 
 above date, till within three days of his execution, Miss 
 Bosanquet says she had reason to believe he felt a coiUrile 
 Heart, and found the Sinner's Friend to be his. June 
 25th, he torote her his last Farewell, as follows : 
 
 My dear friend, June 23, 1777. 
 
 On Friday morning I am to be made immortal ! I die with 
 a heart truly contrite, and broken under a sense of its great 
 and manifold offences, but comforted and sustained by a firm 
 faith in the pardoning love of Jesus Christ. My earnest prayers 
 to God are, that we may meet and know e;.ch other in tliat 
 kingdom, towards which you have been so long and so happily 
 travelling. I return you my most affectionate thanks for all 
 your friendly attention to me ; and have no doubt, should any 
 opportunity offer, you will remember my excellent, but most 
 sdflicted partner in distress. I do not know where to direct to 
 worthy Mr. Parher, but beg to trouble you with my dying love 
 and kind remembrance to him. The Lord Jesus Cimst be with 
 our spirits. Amen. 
 
 W. DODD.
 
 CORRESPONDENCE. 20S 
 
 Soon after the Doctor's death, the lady received from a 
 
 faithful minister of Jesus Christ, wlio constantly attended him, 
 a verj' encouraging account, in which lie declares he beiievei 
 him to be singing ihe songs of the redcemexi, and concludes his 
 letter with the following words : 
 
 " Thus ended the mortal, and began the neter-ceasing life 
 of your old and my new friend : and I bless God our Saviour 
 for this new proof of his saving grace, and the power of his pre- 
 cious blood. 
 
 " llie time is elapsed ; I have written more than I intended, 
 and yet not a tenth part of what I could. You may be com- 
 forted, as I have been richly. Your and my fears are at an 
 end. 
 
 " May the God of all grace keep your and my heart in the 
 knowledge of him, yea, cause us to grow in grace and love! 
 This is the earnest prayer of 
 
 " Your affectionate friend, 
 
 " and willing servant in Christ."
 
 DR. DODD'S 
 
 ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF*. 
 
 The greatest affliction and oppression to ray mjnd at present is, 
 the piercing reflection that I, who have lived all ray life in an 
 endeavour to promote the truth of Christianity, should now be- 
 come an obstacle to that truth, and a scandal to that profession ; 
 that I, who have with all my power, and with all sincerity, 
 laboured to do good, and be a blessing to my fellow-creatures, 
 should now become an evil and a curse. What shall I, can I, 
 ought I to do, to prevent, as much as in me lies, any such dread- 
 ful consequences of my ghame and my crime ? Will a public 
 attestation of my sincere belief of Christianity, and an ingenuous 
 detail and confession of my offences, be of any avail ? In order 
 to do this, and to acquaint you in a few words with a perfect 
 knowledge of myself (though I should wish to do it more fully), 
 be 60 good as to consider the few following particulars : 
 
 I entered very young on public life, very innocent very 
 ignorant and very ingenuous. I lived many happy years at 
 West Ham, in an uninterrupted and successful discharge of my 
 duty. A disappointment in the li\Tng of that parish obliged me 
 to exert myself; and I engaged for a chapel near Buckingham 
 Gate. Great success attended the undertaking : it plea.secl and 
 elated me. At the same time Lord Chesterfield, to whom I was per- 
 sonally unknown, offered me the care of his heir, Mr. Stanhope t. 
 By the advice of my dear friend, now in heaven, Dr. Squire, 
 I engaged, under promises which were not performed. Such 
 
 * Of this account Dr. Dodd may be said to have only 
 drawn the outlines ; the picture, as it appears, was finished by 
 Dr. Johnson. 
 
 t The present Lord Chesterfield.
 
 ACCOUNT OF DR. DODD. ioS 
 
 a distinction too, you must iinow, served to increase a young 
 man's vanity. I was naturally led into more extensive aod im- 
 portant connections, and, of course, into greater expences and 
 more dissipations. Indeed, before, I never dissiftated at all 
 for many, many years, never seeing a play-house, or any public 
 place, but living entirely in Christian duties. Thus brought io 
 town, and introduced to gay life, 1 fell into its snares. Am- 
 bition and vanity led me on. My temper, naturally cheerful, 
 was pleased with company ; naturally generous, it knew not the 
 use of money ; it was a stranger to the iLseful science of econo- 
 my and frugality ; nor could it withhold from distress, what it 
 too much (often) wanted itself. 
 
 Besides this, the habit of uniform, regular, sober pietv, and 
 of watchfulness and devotion, wearing off, amidst this wi- 
 avoidable scene of dissipation, I was not, as at West Ham, the 
 innocent man that I lived there. I committed offences against 
 my God! which yet, I bless him, were always, in reflection, 
 detestable to me. 
 
 But my greatest e\'il was expence. To supply it, I fell into 
 the dreadful and ruinous mode of raising money by aimoities. 
 Uhe annuities devoured me. Still I exerted myself by every 
 means to do what I thought right, and built my hoptes of perfect 
 extrication from all my difficulties when my young and beloved 
 pupil should come of age. But, alas! during this interval, 
 which was not very long, I declare with solemn truth, that I 
 never varied from the steady belief of the Christian doctrines I 
 I preached them with all my power, and kept back nothing 
 from my congregations which I thought might tend to their 
 welfiEire ; and I was very successful in this way during the time. 
 Nor, though I spent in dissipation many hours which 1 ought 
 not, but to which my connections inevitably led, was I idle 
 during this period ; as my Commentary on the Bible, my Ser- 
 mons to Young Men, and several other publications prove. I 
 can say too, with pleasure, tliat I studiously employed my in- 
 terest, through the connections 1 had, for the good of others. 
 I never forgot or neglected the cause of the distressed ; many, if 
 need were, could bear me witness. Let it suffice to say, that 
 diu-ing this period I instituted the Charity for the Discharge of 
 Debtors. 
 
 Such is the plain and ingenuous detail of myself. I sincerely 
 lament all I have done wrong. I love, and ever did, religion 
 and goodness. 1 hate and abhor vice, and myseif for ever 
 having committed any. I look with peculiar detestation on the
 
 S06 ACCOUNT OF DR. DODD. 
 
 crime to which I am at present obnoxious ; and I wish before I 
 die, of all things, if possible, to make amends by the most sin- 
 cere and full confession and humiliation of myself. 
 
 W. DoDD. 
 May 21, 1777. 
 
 The following Declaration Dr. Dodd inclosed in a 
 Letter to a Friend some time hefore he suffered. 
 
 Though I acknowledge in all its atrocity, and more especially 
 with a view to my peculiar circumstances and character, the 
 offence for which I suffer, yet, considering that it is punished 
 with such sanguinary severity in no commercial state under 
 heaven, and that in my case it has been fully atoned for, so far 
 as human creatures can atone to each other, I cannot but judge 
 my punishment rather hard : and still more so, as that public 
 (for whose benefit and example such ignominious death and 
 punishment can alone be intended, has with a pleading, and 
 almost unanimous) voice supplicated the Throne, in the most 
 humble manner, to show mercy, and avert the abhorred stroke, 
 by assigning another, though perhaps not less afflictive punish- 
 ment. 
 
 In this dispensation, however, I look far bej'ond the hand 
 of poor human vengeance, and adore the justice and goodness of 
 God, who, correcting me in judgment for deviations from the 
 purity of his Gospel, as a distinguished minister of it, has been 
 pleased to call me thus by death to proclaim my repentance, and 
 to attest my faith in him ; and to declare to all my fellow- 
 creatures, and to ray beloved countrymen in particular (for 
 whose love to me I am under the highest obligations) my firm 
 belief of the principles which I have long preached, and in my 
 writings dehvered with the utmost truth and sincerity; and 
 which I thus seal with my blood, in perfect resignation to the 
 will of my adorable Master, and in a firm dependence on those 
 principles for the salvation of my own soul. 
 
 W. Dodd.
 
 ACCOUNT OF DR. DODD. wr 
 
 Letters to Two Nolle Lords of Ilis Majesty's Most 
 llonoiirahle Privy Council. 
 
 LEH-ER I. 
 
 My Lord*, 
 
 I HAVE committed a capital crime, for whicli the sentence of 
 tlic law has passed upon mo ; and whether that sentence shall 
 be executed in its full rigour, may, perhaps, depend upon the 
 surtrage of your Lord!>hip. 
 
 llie shame and self-reproach with which I now solicit your 
 commiseradon, 1 hope no man will ever feel, who has not de- 
 served to feel them like myself. But I will not desjjair of being 
 heard with pity, when, under the terrors of a speedy and dis- 
 graceful death, I most humbly implore your Lordship's inter- 
 session. 
 
 ISIy life has not been wholly useless ; I have laboured in my 
 calling diligently and successfully; but success inflamed my 
 vanity, and my heart betrayed me. Violent passions have 
 exposed me to violent temptations ; but I am not the first 
 whom temptation has overthrown. I have, in all my deviation*, 
 kept Right always in view, and have invariably resolved to 
 return to it. Whether, in a prosperous state, I should have 
 kept my resolution, pliblic justice lias not suffered me to 
 know. 
 
 My crime has been indeed atrocious, but my pimishmcnt 
 lias not been light. From a height of reputation, which perhaps 
 raised envy in others, and certainly produced pride in myself, 
 I have fallen to the lowest and grossest infamy ; from an income 
 which prudence might have made plentiful, I am reduced to 
 iive on those remains of charity which infamy has left me. 
 
 When so much has been given to justice I humbly entreat. 
 
 * Lord North, then Prime Minister.
 
 08 ACCOUNT OF DR. DODD. 
 
 that life, such as it must now be, may be given to mercy ; and 
 that your Lordship's influence may be employed in deposing 
 our Sovereign to look with compassion on. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 Your Lordship's most hombie supplicant, 
 
 William Dodd. 
 June 11, 1777. 
 
 LETTER IL 
 
 My Lord*, 
 
 Not many days are now to pass before the fate of one of the 
 most miserable of human beings will be finally determined. 
 iTie efficacy of your Lordship's voice b well known ; and 
 whether I shall iimnediately suffer an ignominious death, or 
 wander the rest of my days in ignominious exile, your opinion 
 will probably determine. Do not refuse, my Lord, to hear the 
 plea, whatever it may be, which I humbly oppose to tlie ex- 
 tremity of justice. 
 
 I acknowledge, my Lord, the atrociousness of my crime ; I 
 admit the truth of the verdict that condemned me ; yet I hope, 
 that when my evil is censured, my good may likewise be re- 
 membered ; and that it may be considered how much that 
 society which is injured by my fraud, has been benefited by my 
 charitable labours. I have offended ; I am penitent ; 1 entreat 
 but for life, for s life which must pass certainly in dishonour, 
 and probably in want. Do not refuse, my Lord, to compas- 
 sionate a man who, blasted in fame and ruined in fortune, yet 
 shrinks with terror firom the precipice of eternity. Let me live, 
 however miserable; and let my miseries warn all those to whom 
 ' they shall be known, against self-indulgence, vanity, and pro- 
 vision. 
 
 Once more, my Lord, let me beg for life; and when jou 
 sec me going from the gloom of a prison to the penury of 
 
 * Enrl Mansfield.
 
 DR. DODO'S PETITION. otf 
 
 banishment, do not consider public justice u wholly uasatisfied 
 hy the sufferings of, 
 
 Mj Lord, 
 
 Your LoRDSHii>'s most humble supplicant, 
 
 William Dodo. 
 June 11, 17?t. 
 
 DR. DODD'S PETITION, 
 
 (presented by his orotuer) 
 TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. 
 
 Sirs, 
 
 It is most humbly presented to Your Majesty by William Dodd, 
 llic tmhappy convict now under sentence of death. 
 
 That William Dodd, acknowledging the justice of the sen- 
 tence denounced against him, has no hope or refuge but in Your 
 Majestj 's clemency : 
 
 That though to recollect or mention the usefulness of his 
 life, or the efficacy of his ministry, must overwhelm him in hia 
 present condition with shame and sorrow, he yet humbly hopes 
 that his past labours will not wholly be forgotten; and that tlic 
 aeal with which he has exhorted others to a good life, though it 
 does not extenuate hb crime, may mitigate hu punishment : 
 
 That debased as he is by ignominy, and distressed as he is 
 by poverty, scorned by the world, and detested by himself, de- 
 prived of all external comforts, and afflicted by consciousnets of 
 guilt, he can derive no hopes of longer life, but that of repairing 
 the injury he has done to mankind, by exhibiting an example of 
 shame and submission, and of expiating his sins by prayer and 
 penitence : 
 
 That for this end he humbly implores from the clemency of 
 Your Majesty, the continuance of a life legally forfeited ; and of 
 tfie days which by your gracios compassion he may yet live, 
 no one shall pass without a prayer, that Your Majesty, after a
 
 210 MRS. DODD'S PETITIOX. 
 
 long life of happiness and honour, nlay stand at the final day of 
 judgment, among the merciful that obtain mercy. 
 
 So fervently prays the most distressed and wretched of Your 
 Majesty's subjects, 
 
 William Dodd. 
 
 MRS. DODD'S PETITION, 
 
 (presented by herself) 
 TO THE QUEEN'S MOST EXCELLENT M-UESTY. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 It is most humbly represented by Mary Dodd, the wife of Dr. 
 William Dodd, now lying in prison under sentence of death. 
 
 That she has been the wife of this unhappy man more than 
 twenty-seven years, and has lived with him in the greatest 
 happiness of conjugal union, and the highest state of conjugal 
 confidence . 
 
 That she has been a constant witness of his unwearied en- 
 deavours for public good, and his laborious attendance on chari- 
 table institutions. Many are the families whom his care has 
 delivered from want ; many are the hearts which he has freed 
 fi-om pain, and the faces which he has cleared from sorrow. 
 
 That therefore she most humbly throws herself at the feet of 
 the Queen, earnestly entreating that the petition of a distressed 
 wife, asking mercy for a husband, may be considered as naturally 
 soliciting the compassion of Her Majesty ; and that when her 
 wisdom has compared the offender's good actions with his crime, 
 he will be pleased to represent his case to our Most Gracious 
 Sovereign in such terms as may dispose him to mitigate the 
 rigour of the law. 
 
 So prays Your Majesty's most dutiful subject and suppli- 
 cant, 
 
 Mary Dodd.
 
 OBSERVATIONS ON DR. DODD. 211 
 
 Such were the last thoughts of a man whom we have seen 
 piulting ui popularity, and sunk in shame. For his reputation, 
 which no man can give to himself, those who conferred it are to 
 answer. Of his public ministry, the means of judging were suf- 
 ficiently attainable. He must be allowed to preach well, whose 
 sermons strike tlie audience with forcible convictbn. Of his life, 
 those who thought it consistent with his doctrine, did not origin- 
 ally form false notions. He was at first what he endeavoured to 
 make others ; but the world broke down his resolution, and he 
 in time ceased to exemplify his own instructions. 
 
 Let tltose who arc tempted to liis faults, tremble at his 
 punishment; and those whom he impressed from the pulpit with 
 religious sentiments, endeavour to confirm them, by considering 
 the regret and self-abhorrence with which he reviewed in prison 
 his deviations from rectitude. 
 
 Whatever assistance his anxiety might prompt him to solicit 
 in forming the petitions (which, however, he must be considered 
 as confirming by his name), the account of his past life, and of 
 his dying sentiments, are the effusions of his own mind. Those 
 who read them with the proper disposition, will not read in vain. 
 
 A few days before Dr. DoDD si{ff'ered Death, the follow- 
 ing Observations on the Propriety of Pardoning hifi, were 
 written and sent to the Public Papers by Dr. JoHNSoir. 
 
 Yesterday was presented to the Secretary of State, by the 
 Earl Percy, a Petition in favour of Dr. Dodd, signed by twcntj-- 
 tliree thousand hands. On this occasion it is natural to consider 
 
 That in all countries penal laws have been relaxed, as par- 
 ticular reasons have emerged : 
 
 Tliat a life eminently beneficent, a single action eminently 
 good, or even the power of being useful to the public, have been 
 sufficient to protect the fife of a delinquent : 
 
 That no arbiter of life and deatli has ever been censured for 
 granting the life of a criminal to honest and powerful solicitation : 
 
 That the man for whom a nation petitions, must be presumed 
 to have merit uncommon in kind or in degree : for however the 
 mode of collecting subscriptions, or the right of judgment exer-
 
 t 
 
 ei2 OBSERVATIONS ON DR. DODD. 
 
 cised by the subscribers, may be open to dispute, it is at least 
 plain that something is done for this man, that was never done 
 for any other; and Government, which must proceed upon gene- 
 ral views, may rationally conclude that this man is somethiag 
 better than other offenders have been, or has done something 
 more than others have done : 
 
 That though the people cannot judge of the administration of 
 justice so well as their governors, yet their voice has always been 
 regarded : 
 
 That this is a case in which the petitioners determine against 
 their own interest ; those for whose protection the law was made, 
 entreat its relaxation ; and our Governors cannot be charged with 
 the consequences which the people bring upon themselves : 
 
 That as this b a case without example, it will probably be 
 without consequences, and many ages will elapse before such a 
 crime b again committed by such a man : 
 
 That though life be spared, justice may be satisfied with 
 ruin, imprisonment, exile, infamy, and penury. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 London: Printed by T. Miller, 
 5, Noble-street, Cheapside.
 
 Printed uniformly with this Book, and to be had of 
 the Publishers. 
 
 ^COMFORT FOR THE AFFLICTED 
 
 UNDER EVERY DISTRESS ; 
 WITH SUITABLE DEVOTIONS, 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM DODD, L. L. D. 
 
 12mo. 6s. boards. 
 
 BY THK SAMS AUTHOR, 
 
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