FABLE XXIV. The Devil and the Sinner:
Or, Slow Vengeance, sure.
An Old Offender, whose repeated Crimes
Had laid him fast in Newgate sev'ral times;
Who oft' was Scourg'd, and in the Pill'ry stood,
'Till his more hard'ned Face disgrac'd the Wood:
All Punishments, but Death, had undergone,
And thought the Gallows ne'er wou'd claim its own:
Because the Dev'l, whose Help he always us'd,
(To make him Rogue compleat) his Life excus'd;
He still, when free, drove on his former Trade,
And in new Thefts successful Progress made.
At last, discover'd, and confin'd again,
He sought his Old Assistant's Aid in vain:
Satan, when call'd, was ready, as before;
But answer'd, Friend, I cannot help you more:
On your vile Errands I've so worn my Pumps,
That ev'n my Hoofs are batter'd to the Stumps:
Nor have I Cash to purchase me a Shooe;
My Stock has fail'd me, and so I must you:
Farewell then, and be Hang'd, yet cease your Moans;
'Tis time you Swing, Old Tyburn for you Groans.
The MORAL.
‘Let not Impunity, or long Success,
‘Encourage Sinners in their Wickedness:
‘For He, whose sly Temptations draw them in,
‘'Till, past Retrieve, they are ingulf'd in Sin;
‘When He perceives they are entangl'd fast,
‘Will flinch, and leave them in the Lurch at last:
‘Then He will shew them, but, alas! too late,
‘Their loath'd Deformity, and hopeless State;
‘And, in Disdain, upbraid them with the Vice
‘To which his Treach'ry did the Fools entice.
‘While Heav'n, whose injur'd Patience long forbore,
‘To try if they wou'd Turn, and Sin no more;
‘But found them Hard'ned, and grown Old in Ills,
‘And wou'd not make them Good, against their Wills;
‘Consigns them to Eternal Punishment,
‘Because they wou'd not, while they might, Repent.
