Prison thoughts Elegy written in the King's bench: In Imitation of Gray. Lines written on the back of a "horse" and All the World's at Law. By a Collegian [i.e. W. T. Thomas] |
 |
 | Prison thoughts |  |
5
ELEGY WRITTEN In the Ring's Bench Prison.
The Turnkey rings the bell for shutting out,
The Visitor walks slowly to the Gate,
The Debtor chum-ward hastes in idle rout,
And leaves the Bench to darkness, me and Fate.
The Visitor walks slowly to the Gate,
The Debtor chum-ward hastes in idle rout,
And leaves the Bench to darkness, me and Fate.
6
Now fade the high spiked walls upon the sight,
And all the space a silent air assumes;
Save where some drunkard from the Brace takes flight,
And drowsy converse lulls the distant rooms.
And all the space a silent air assumes;
Save where some drunkard from the Brace takes flight,
And drowsy converse lulls the distant rooms.
Save that from yonder strong room,
close confined,
Some noisy wight does to the Night complain
Of Mister Jones, the Marshal, who, unkind,
Has, by a week's confinement, check'd his reign.
Some noisy wight does to the Night complain
Of Mister Jones, the Marshal, who, unkind,
Has, by a week's confinement, check'd his reign.
7
Within those strong-built walls, down that Parade,
Where lie the stones all paved in order fair,
Each in his narrow room by Bailiffs laid,
The new-made pris'ners o'er their caption swear.
Where lie the stones all paved in order fair,
Each in his narrow room by Bailiffs laid,
The new-made pris'ners o'er their caption swear.
The gentle morning bustle of their trade,
The 'Prentice, from the garret overhead,
The dapper Shopman, or the busy maid,
Will never here arouse them from their bed.
The 'Prentice, from the garret overhead,
The dapper Shopman, or the busy maid,
Will never here arouse them from their bed.
8
For them no polish'd Rumfords here shall burn,
Nor wife uxorious ply her evening care,
No children run to lisp their dad's return,
Or climb his knees, the sugar-plumbs to share.
Nor wife uxorious ply her evening care,
No children run to lisp their dad's return,
Or climb his knees, the sugar-plumbs to share.
Oft did the creditor to their promise yield,
As often they that solemn promise broke;
How jocund did they drive the duns a-field!
Till nick'd at last within the Bailiff's yoke!
As often they that solemn promise broke;
How jocund did they drive the duns a-field!
Till nick'd at last within the Bailiff's yoke!
9
Let not Ambition mock their heedless fate,
And idly cry, their state might have been better;
Nor Grandeur hear with scorn while I relate
The short insolvent annals of the Debtor.
And idly cry, their state might have been better;
Nor Grandeur hear with scorn while I relate
The short insolvent annals of the Debtor.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,
All wealth procures, its being to entrench,
Await alike the writ's appointed hour:
The paths of spendthrifts lead but to the Bench.
All wealth procures, its being to entrench,
Await alike the writ's appointed hour:
The paths of spendthrifts lead but to the Bench.
10
Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,
That they are here, and not at large like you,
That they have bills at Tailor's, and Wine Vault—
Bills that, alas! have long been over due.
That they are here, and not at large like you,
That they have bills at Tailor's, and Wine Vault—
Bills that, alas! have long been over due.
Can story gay, or animated tale,
Back from this mansion bid us freely run?
Can Honour's voice o'er Creditors prevail,
Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Dun?
Back from this mansion bid us freely run?
Can Honour's voice o'er Creditors prevail,
Or flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Dun?
11
Perhaps in this confined retreat is shut
Some heart, to make a splash once all on fire:
Skill, that might Hobhouse to the rout have put,
Or loyally play'd Doctor Southey's lyre.
Some heart, to make a splash once all on fire:
Skill, that might Hobhouse to the rout have put,
Or loyally play'd Doctor Southey's lyre.
But Prudence to their eyes her careful page,
Rich in pounds, shillings, pence, did ne'er unroll;
Stern Creditors repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of their soul.
Rich in pounds, shillings, pence, did ne'er unroll;
Stern Creditors repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of their soul.
12
Full many a Blood, in fashion an adept,
The dark, lone rooms of spunging-houses bear;
Full many a Fair is born to bloom unkept,
And waste her sweetness, none know how, or where.
The dark, lone rooms of spunging-houses bear;
Full many a Fair is born to bloom unkept,
And waste her sweetness, none know how, or where.
Some Cockney Petersham, that with whisker'd cheek
Once moved in Bond Street, Rotten Row, Pall Mall,
Some humble Mrs. Clark for rest may seek,
Some Burdett, guiltless quite of speaking well.
Once moved in Bond Street, Rotten Row, Pall Mall,
Some humble Mrs. Clark for rest may seek,
Some Burdett, guiltless quite of speaking well.
13
The applauses of admiring mobs to gain,
To be to threats of ruin, prison, lost;
To see they have not spent their cash in vain,
And read their triumph in the Morning Post,
To be to threats of ruin, prison, lost;
To see they have not spent their cash in vain,
And read their triumph in the Morning Post,
Their lot forbade; nor circumscribed alone
Their growing follies, but themselves confined;
The Bailiff grimly seized them for his own,
And Turnkeys closed the gates on them behind.
Their growing follies, but themselves confined;
The Bailiff grimly seized them for his own,
And Turnkeys closed the gates on them behind.
14
The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
The King's Bench terribly pulls down our pride,
For high or lowly born, 'tis all the same.
To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,
The King's Bench terribly pulls down our pride,
For high or lowly born, 'tis all the same.
Far from the City's mad ignoble strife,
They still retain an eager wish to stray;
They hate this cool sequester'd mode of life,
And wish at liberty to work their way.
They still retain an eager wish to stray;
They hate this cool sequester'd mode of life,
And wish at liberty to work their way.
15
And on those walls that still from Duns protect,
Those fire-proof walls, so strongly built, and high,
With uncouth rhymes and mis-spelt verses deck'd,
They ask the passing tribute of a sigh.
Those fire-proof walls, so strongly built, and high,
With uncouth rhymes and mis-spelt verses deck'd,
They ask the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their names, their years, writ by th' unletter'd muse,
The place of fame and brass-plate fill up well:
And many a Lawyer's too, the stranger views,
With pious wishes he may go to hell.
The place of fame and brass-plate fill up well:
And many a Lawyer's too, the stranger views,
With pious wishes he may go to hell.
16
For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
His pleasing anxious liberty resign'd,
To Banco Regis bent his dreary way,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
His pleasing anxious liberty resign'd,
To Banco Regis bent his dreary way,
Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
On some one out, the prisoner still relies,
Some one to yield him comfort, he requires;
E'en from the Bench the voice of Nature cries,
E'en though imprison'd, glow our wonted fires.
Some one to yield him comfort, he requires;
E'en from the Bench the voice of Nature cries,
E'en though imprison'd, glow our wonted fires.
17
For thee who mindful of the Debtor's doom,
Dost in these lines their hapless state relate;
If chance by writ or capias hither come,
Some kindred spirit may enquire thy fate.
Dost in these lines their hapless state relate;
If chance by writ or capias hither come,
Some kindred spirit may enquire thy fate.
Haply some hoary Bailiff here may say,
“Oft have we watch'd him at the peep of dawn,
“But, damn him, still he slipp'd from us away,
“And when we thought we had him, he was gone.
“Oft have we watch'd him at the peep of dawn,
“But, damn him, still he slipp'd from us away,
“And when we thought we had him, he was gone.
18
“Where Drury Lane erects its well known head,
“And Covent Garden lifts its domes on high,
“Morning and noon and night we found him fled,
“Most snugly pouring on us passing by.
“And Covent Garden lifts its domes on high,
“Morning and noon and night we found him fled,
“Most snugly pouring on us passing by.
“On Sundays ever, smiling as in scorn,
“Passing our houses, he would boldly rove;
“We gave his case up, as of one forlorn,
“And for his person pined in hopeless love.
“Passing our houses, he would boldly rove;
“We gave his case up, as of one forlorn,
“And for his person pined in hopeless love.
19
“One morn we track'd him near th' accustom'd spot,
“Along the Strand, and by his favourite she,
“Another came; yet still we caught him not,
“But on the third we nabb'd a youth, 'twas he.
“Along the Strand, and by his favourite she,
“Another came; yet still we caught him not,
“But on the third we nabb'd a youth, 'twas he.
“The next, with warrant due, we brought our man,
“Snug to the Bench here, all the way from town,
“Approach and read the warrant, (if you can,)
“You may a copy get for half-a-crown.”
“Snug to the Bench here, all the way from town,
“Approach and read the warrant, (if you can,)
“You may a copy get for half-a-crown.”
20
The Warrant.
Here rests his head, in seventeen in one,
A Youth to Fortune and to Fame well known,
But Tradesmen trusted and began to dun,
And Mister Sheriff mark'd him for his own.
A Youth to Fortune and to Fame well known,
But Tradesmen trusted and began to dun,
And Mister Sheriff mark'd him for his own.
Great were his spendings, he nought put on shelf,
To send a recompense Law did not fail:
He gave his Cred'tors, all he had—himself,
He gain'd from them, (all he abhorred) a Gaol!
To send a recompense Law did not fail:
He gave his Cred'tors, all he had—himself,
He gain'd from them, (all he abhorred) a Gaol!
21
No further seek his doings to disclose,
Or draw his follies from this dull abode,
(Here he'll at all events three months repose)
Th' Insolvent Act may open then a road.
Or draw his follies from this dull abode,
(Here he'll at all events three months repose)
Th' Insolvent Act may open then a road.
23
LINES Written on the Back of a Horse.
A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse.
—Shakespeare.
—Shakespeare.
Mourn, Astley, thy equestrian fame's decline!
Behold a Horse outdoes the best of thine.
A Horse that when in prison we're confined
Enables us to leave its walls behind;
And through the gate, however fast they lock it,
Will carry us, if stabled in the pocket.
24
Protects from dun, and bailiff's grievous ill;
Mocking the sheriff and the plaintiff's power,
And making law the fiction of an hour.
Of Canace's horse of brass let Chaucer vapour,
What is't to Brooshooft's gifted horse of paper?
And what th' Arabian's magic horse of wood,
Say, is not our's as wondrous and as good?
Got by Security, out of Legality,
Thro' dint of Poundage, sanctioned by Formality.
It needs nor bit nor spur, nor corn nor hay,
And yet costs four and sixpence every day.
25
He had not mourn'd o'er such untimely miss,
As when to feed his nag on nought he tried,
And just accomplish'd it, the day it died.
Ah, wondrous Horse!—fruit of judicial germs,
What pity thy existence has its terms.
Oh, who sufficient in thy praise could say,
Did but thy life endure beyond a day!
27
ALL THE WORLD'S AT LAW.
All the world's at law,And all our thriving fellows now are lawyers!
They have their articles and their entrances,
And one man in his time brings many actions,
Each cause having seven stages. First the writ,
Hunting and seeking in the bailiff's hands,
And then the declaration, with its venue
28
Too quickly on its fellow; and then the plea to't,
Drawn by some special pleader.—Then the demurrer,
Full of denials, lying like young Wilding;
Eager to put off, sudden and quick in filing;
Seeking for some procrastination,
Even in the judge's teeth. And then the judgment,
With fair decision and good records lined
With legal words and terms of formal cut.
Full of old precedents and modern instances,
And so they go to court. The scene then shifts
29
With levy on its back, and poundage too.
Last stage of all, that ends this strange and useless persecution,
Is the King's Bench, or Fleet, or else the Marshalsea;
Sans law, sans sense, sans cash, sans every thing.
| Prison thoughts | |