 | Poems |  |
95
THE FELON.
Oh! mark his wan and hollow cheeks, and mark his eye-balls glare!
And mark his teeth in anguish clenched, the anguish of despair!
Know, since three days [his penance done] yon Felon left a jail;
And since three days no food has past those lips so parched and pale.
And mark his teeth in anguish clenched, the anguish of despair!
Know, since three days [his penance done] yon Felon left a jail;
And since three days no food has past those lips so parched and pale.
96
—“Where shall I turn,” the wretch exclaims; “where lay my shameful head?
How fly from scorn, or how contrive to earn an honest bread?
This branded hand would gladly toil; but when for work I pray,
Who sees this mark—“A Felon!” cries, and loathing turns away.
How fly from scorn, or how contrive to earn an honest bread?
This branded hand would gladly toil; but when for work I pray,
Who sees this mark—“A Felon!” cries, and loathing turns away.
“My heart has greatly erred, but now would fain revert to good;
My hand has deeply sinned, but yet has ne'er been stained with blood;
For work or alms in vain I sue; the scorners both deny:
I starve! I starve! then what remains? this choice: To sin, or die.
My hand has deeply sinned, but yet has ne'er been stained with blood;
For work or alms in vain I sue; the scorners both deny:
I starve! I starve! then what remains? this choice: To sin, or die.
“Here, Virtue spurns me with disdain; there, Pleasure spreads her snare;
Strong Habit drags me back to vice; and urged by fierce Despair,
I strive, while Hunger gnaws my heart, to fly from shame in vain:
World, 'tis thy cruel will! I yield, and plunge in guilt again.
Strong Habit drags me back to vice; and urged by fierce Despair,
I strive, while Hunger gnaws my heart, to fly from shame in vain:
World, 'tis thy cruel will! I yield, and plunge in guilt again.
97
“There's mercy in each ray of light, that mortal eyes e'er knew;
There's mercy in each breath of air, that mortal lips e'er drew;
There's mercy both for bird and beast in God's indulgent plan;
There's mercy for each creeping thing, but Man has none for Man.
There's mercy in each breath of air, that mortal lips e'er drew;
There's mercy both for bird and beast in God's indulgent plan;
There's mercy for each creeping thing, but Man has none for Man.
Ye proudly-honest, when ye heard my wounded conscience groan,
Had liberal hand or feeling heart one glimpse of mercy shown,
That act had made from burning eyes sweet tears of virtue roll,
Had cheared my heart, had fixed my faith, and God had gained a soul.
Had liberal hand or feeling heart one glimpse of mercy shown,
That act had made from burning eyes sweet tears of virtue roll,
Had cheared my heart, had fixed my faith, and God had gained a soul.
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