 | Poems on several subjects |  |
James Ratcliff's Retreat from the Prison of Edinburgh, Monday 23d of July 1739, he being to be hanged the Wednesday after:
A SONG.
I
I as in bedlam, was confin'dA prisoner in chains;
And unto death I was design'd,
Had I not taken pains.
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Unto me very nigh:
But now I'm free of that reproach;
That cursed death I fly.
II
Farewell, prison-house, I nowNo more in you remain;
Ye iron fetters all adieu,
I think the day's my ain:
Farewell ye magistrates, and all
In fair Edina's town;
I value not, nor never shall,
Your judgment, sword or gown.
III
But be advis'd by me, I pray,Your prison better watch,
Upon the next comes in your way,
Since I have made dispatch.
Since I'm out of your confines, I
Rejoice and bless the night,
Wherein I had the liberty
To take my farewell flight.
IV
Tence now, ye sullen fears of death!I'm now beyond the pow'r
Of that call'd justice; and my breath
It cannot now devour.
In mercy Heaven grants respite
To some that's doom'd to die;
The which with praises I'll requite,
While I triumphing fly.
V
Grass-market is not now my dread,Nor yet the fatal tree:
It surely is the place of blood,
But so 'tis not to me.
Let murderers and perjurers
Have still it in their due;
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Their liberties pursue.
VI
I never did the poor oppress,But those that had to spare,
I thought it no unrighteousness
The same with them to share.
But many landlords in the land
Oppress with tyranny
The poor; and yet they safer stand
Than gen'rous knaves like me.
VII
Dalgliesh, that dog, no doubt would haveHis trade still going on;
He thought to send me to my grave;
For pity he has none.
But now, I think, he's mumpt of me,
And may go hang himself:
I'll triumph o'er him and the tree,
Had I some little pelf.
VIII
But now I have not time to stayTo tell you all my mind;
Lest I should by too much delay
Your tyranny more find.
Let magistrates and judges both
With anger gnaw their nails:
It is best-sailing, by my troth,
When wind fills up the sails.
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