TO THE EARL OF HARRINGTON: AN APPEAL FOR MERCY.
A Fragment.
I
Applauded Vicerory of Ierne's isle,
Spare, for your brother's sake, the poet's style,
If an extempore address like this
Should aught contain presumptuous or amiss!
II
Your courteous and obliging turn of mind,
With that of other candid nobles joined,
Has struck an eager Muse, who cannot yet
The joyous talk of yesterday forget.
III
Three brothers—I shall only speak the truth,—
Three brothers, hurried by mere dint of youth,
Incautious youth, were found in arms of late,
And rushing on to their approaching fate.
IV
One, in a fever, sent up to be tried,
From jail to jail delivered over, died;
Sick and distressed, he did not long sustain
The mortal shocks of motion and of pain.
V
The third was then a little boy at school,
That played the truant from the rod and rule;
The child, to join his brothers, left his book
And arms, alas! instead of apples took.
VI
Now lies confined the poor unhappy lad—
For death mere pity and mere shame forbad,—
Long time confined, and waiting Mercy's bail
Two years amidst the horrors of a jail.
VII
I spare to mention what, from fact appears,
The boy has suffered in these fatal years;
Pity, at least, becomes his iron lot;—
What ruin is there that a jail has not?
VIII
He is my countryman, my noble lords,
And room for hope your genius affords.
Be truly noble; hear a well-meant prayer,
And deign my fellow-citizen to spare!
IX
Think, what the Sovereign Lord of all demands,
The King of kings, from His vicegerent's hands;
His Will, as ages after ages run,
His Holy Will eternally be done!
X
God grant to every nation every bliss,
But, Britons, more especially to this;
Lastly, in health and wealth and peace and rest,
Thy people, parent Manchester, be blest!
