Oft have you pray’d me, when in youth,
Never to err from paths of truth;
But youth to vice is much too prone,
And mine by far too much, I own. 
Induced to riot, swear, and game,
I thought in vice t’acquire fame;
But found the pois’ning scenes of riot
Soon robb’d my mind of joy and quiet. 
The usual course of rakes I ran,
The dupe of woman and of man. 
Careless of fortune’s smile or frown,
My desk I left t’enjoy the town,
At folly dash’d in wisdom’s spite,
Idled by day, revell’d by night: 
But short was that delusive scene,
And I awoke to sorrow keen. 
Debt press’d on debt:  I could not pay,
And found that credit had its day. 
No friend to aid, what should I do? 
I made bad worse:  to liquor flew: 
For when my bill-book I survey’d,
I shrunk, as if I’d seen my shade;
And to drive terror from my mind,
Drank on, and care gave to the wind: 
But wine nor words can charm away
The banker’s clerk who comes for pay. 
Payment is press’d, the cash is gone: 
Too late I cry, ‘what must be done?’
Horrow! a docket struck appears: 
I look aghast, my wife’s in tears. 
The naked truth stares in my face,
And shows me more than one disgrace. 
My keys a messenger demands;
While, as a culprit often stands,
The humbled bankrupt lowers his view,
And sees the law its work pursue. 
Soon comes of all his goods, the sale;
Which, like light straw before a gale,
The hammer-man puffs clean away,
And cries, ‘they must be sold this day.’ 
They are so, and I’ll tell you how: 
At loss you’ll readily allow. 
Then comes the tedious, humbling task,
To answer all commiss’ners ask;
And those who mean to act most fair,
Will at first meeting e’er appear,
To questions ask’d will answer true,
And clearly state accounts to view. 
A second he need not attend,
But if not may perhaps offend. 
Happy the man who then can lay
His hand upon his heart, and say,
’You all my books and deeds may scan
I’m honest, though distress’d man. 
My own just wants, and losses great,
Have brought me to this low estate.’ 
Then comes the last dread meeting on,
Dreadful to such as will act wrong,
And through dishonesty or shame
Evasive answers ’tempt to frame: 
For vain his shifts; howe’er he try,
He can’t elude the searching eye
Of lawyers, who’ll in all things pry: 
His private foibles e’en mast out
Grievous exposure ’tis no doubt! 
And if he’s fraudl’lent found, must go
To witness scenes of vice and woe;
Of liberty deprived, to wail
His faults and folly in a jail: 
But should his conduct seem least fair,
England’s blest laws will set him clear;
Not only so, but means will give
T’enable him again to live: 
For such the law, that when ’tis found
There’s fifteen shillings in the pound,
A handsome drawback he’s allow’d,
When, ’stead of shamed, he may look proud;
And be his div’dend e’er so low,
They’ll never let him coinless go. 
Yes, be it e’er a Briton’s pride,
That mercy in his courts preside. 
But e’er he’s paid, he must await
T’obtain a fair certificate. 
Some cases there however are
Which, at first view, may seem severe;
Suppose his creditors are ten;
Four sign, the rest refuse:  what then? 
If their demand exceed the four
They’ll keep the bankrupt in their pow’r;
And although he has all resign’d,
If unproved debts remain behind,
Inhuman creditors then may
His body into prison lay,
Where oft the wretch, to sooth his grief,
In dissipation seeks relief. 
Sometimes a parent may prevent
Unmeaningly the law’s intent;
And merc’less creditors decline
The hapless debtor’s deed to sign,
In hopes the father may one day
The long-neglected son’s debts pay. 
The Lawyer and the Auctioneer,
Plunges all parties in despair;
When Creditors their bills do see,
Each sighing say nought’s left for me.

An address to the insolvent.

   Embarress’d man be just and true,
   Insolvent acts releases you;
   I mean your person from a jail,
   Tho’ keen reproach the man assail. 
   Take my advice when e’er you find,
   Misfortunes canker in your mind;
   Resign your trade give up your store,
   For going on will hurt you more. 
   When e’er you find you cannot pay,
   Your trade give up without delay;
   Too apt we are when cares oppress,
   To liquor fly to make them less. 
   Many I fear from business stray,
   Soon as they find they cannot pay;
   Others to prisons frequent fly,
   To waste their time in luxury. 
   Painful sensations are their doom,
   When they behold a prison’s gloom;
   Do not suppose I mean there are,
   But few in prisons that act fair. 
   Yes, I should hope not one in ten,
   Pursue a base ungenerous plan. 
   If it’s your fate to be confin’d,
   Enter a jail with fervent mind;
   To give up all were all is due,
   And virtue’s course through life pursue. 
   Abstain from drinking, or you’ll find,
   Doing such things disturb the mind;
   Think of your wife and view the tear,
   That start from her caus’d by despair. 
   A prison’s horrors shake her frame,
   When she at entrance say her name;
   Perhaps an infant in her arms,
   Raise in your mind grief’s quick alarms. 
   Sometimes an aged father flies,
   To see you there before he dies;
   Likely a tender mother say,
   My son I’ll see without delay. 
   Each brings affections sighs and tears,
   With throbbing hearts and thousand fears;
   Perhaps their little all they give,
   That you from prison quickly live. 
   A brother comes a brother say,
   I cannot from you keep away;
   Take my last shilling I’ve no more,
   You know the reason I am poor. 
   Let my forgiveness dry your tears,
   And lull to rest a brother’s fears;
   A tender sister, close the scene
   Of anguish, grief, and sorrow keen;
   She gives a sigh and said adieu,
   And waft her blessings then on you. 
   Johnson who keeps the County Jail,
   The captives fate he much bewail;
   And tries the utmost in his power,
   To soften each corroding hour,
   Of those appointed to his care,
   And lull to rest the mind’s despair. 
   Respect to all he daily pay,
   While they the prison laws obey;
   But if decorum’s rules they break,
   Coercive steps he quickly take;
   Till order is restor’d again,
   And they from acting wrong refrain. 
   Each turnkey is a civil man,
   And will oblige you if they can;
   Yet faithful to their trust they are,
   And will do nothing that’s unfair. 
   On City prison now I dwell,
   The captives like their keeper well;
   They say he’s kind to every man,
   And ease their troubles all he can.

To the memory of an affectionate parent.

   My pen cannot describe or tears convey,
   The pangs I felt when late I bad farewell;
   I view’d in death’s embrace a parent lay,
   And heard the passing of the mournful bell.

   Nine month’s disease its ravages had made,
   E’er death reliev’d her from all sufferings here;
   I saw the Sexton with his Iron spade,
   Mark out the spot, and place the gloomy bier.

   Affecting scene! while recollection last,
   I’ll trace the parting of our sad adieu;
   Dwell on those scenes that are for ever past,
   Tho’ in my mind it troubles fresh renew.

   Just before death had wield the fatal blow,
   That stops the power of utterance or sigh;
   She with a voice angelic soft and low,
   Cried, Lord! forgive me e’er my spirit fly.

   Oft have I seen my virtuous parent stray,
   O’er her lov’d garden pensive and forlorn;
   To cull the flowers each succeeding day,
   And view the beauties of a summer’s morn.

   Scarce did the flower adorn the spot around,
   But her hand planted in its proper place;
   No fonder lover of those sweets were found,
   While she their beauties in her mind cou’d trace.

   Three days before her suffering were o’er,
   She crav’d assistance to her favourite spot;
   And said my roses I shall see no more,
   And when I’m absent they will be forgot.

   But for her sake a faithful servant toil,
   To free the flowers from weeds from morn till night;
   Or bring fresh water to the thirsty soil,
   To that lov’d spot that gave her oft delight.

   Anticipation to the panting heart,
   Convey’d the dread decree of fate’s ordain;
   To say she must from earthly scenes depart,
   And not to them for ever turn again,

   Meekness thro’ life had mark’d her for her care,
   While resignation claim’d her for her own;
   Sometimes her mind wou’d cheerful still appear,
   And strive to stifle pain’s afflicting groan.

   Oh God! she cried, thy mercy let me crave,
   Till life’s short span is taken quite away;
   Then may I rest at peace within the grave,
   To wait thy summons for the awful day.

   Scarce had religion brought sweet hope, to aid
   The virtuous victim in the pangs of death;
   When soft a guardian angel gently said,
   You’ll dwell with me when time extinguish breath.

   A few short struggles and the scene was o’er,
   Death with his victim flew above the skies;
   I shall thro’ life her absence oft deplore,
   Till recollection from my memory flies.

   The humble cottagers their Mistress bore,
   To her cold home each face bedew’d with tears;
   She to her mansion to return no more,
   For death has silenc’d all her hopes and fears.

   Oh! had you seen my good and worthy sire,
   In sorrow’s garment his last duty pay;
   To her whose virtues did esteem acquire,
   Or ease the troubles of a luckless day.

   Two sorrowing sons increas’d the gloomy day,
   Who will while life remain her loss deplore;
   Till recollection from them fade away,
   Or erring mortals here do sin no more.

   Each little mourner drop’d affection’s tear,
   When dust on dust the coffin hid from view;
   Their youthful sighs denoted their despair,
   When they of Grandma’ bid a long adieu.

Thoughts on passing through A church-yard.

   I’ve pac’d the sacred yard, oh death! thy sting,
   Expunge from earth the beggar and the king;
   A marble monument, a stone foretell,
   The characters below, here acted well: 
   Each grave a warning give, and yet we see,
   Few strive to gain a bless’d eternity: 
   Kindred and neighbours with departing sigh,
   Cry, write o’er me, ‘remember all must die!’
   Can we these warnings with indifferance view,
   And still a life of guilt and sin pursue. 
   So frail our natures that at times we pray,
   At church at morn, yet sin the after day;
   Much shall we tremble, when the trumpets sound,
   To call us to our God with Angels round. 
   There shall we tottering hear the just decree,
   Of him alone, who can all spirits free: 
   How oft we find when sickness brings distress,
   We wish our sufferings and our crimes were less;
   It is our crimes that most our anguish brings,
   And paint grim death, with all his bitter stings,
   Then erring man if happiness you crave,
   Repent and sin no more this side the grave.

On the death of Mr. Charles Savory.

   When fortune smil’d, his friendly care
      Was to relieve distress;
   And ease the wretched in dispair,
      Or make their troubles less. 
   When to him misfortune stray’d,
      No brothers gave relief;
   To assist the man each seem’d afraid,
      Or ease the brow of grief. 
   A trifling pittance neighbours say,
      The elder B –­r sent;
   Not half enough in life’s decay,
      To pay his nurse and rent. 
   From his misfortunes well its known,
      Their anger did increase;
   He wish’d his friend would make it known,
      He died with all at peace. 
   Within the church beside his wife,
      My friend’s remains are laid;
   Remov’d from all the pangs of life,
      Or B –­s to upbraid. 
   Benevolence came forth with speed,
      While pity went before;
   Holding J. Barber’s hand to aid,
      The man that’s now no more. 
   Oh Barber! such a heart as thine,
      Are seldom found in man;
   Thy generous deeds to endless time,
      Will prove sweet comforts plan. 
   What proof thou gives of friendly care,
      To take his orphan girl;
   And dry the child’s fresh starting tear,
      And from her grief to hurl. 
   Oh daughter of my late lov’d friend,
      Religious guide pursue;
   Till your last moments here do end,
      Or tomb encompass you.