Then, slowly rising from his loathsome bed,

On wasted legs the meagre monster stood,

Gap'd wide, and foam'd, and hungry seem'd to ask,
Tho' sick, an endless quantity of food.

115

Said he, "The sweet melodious flute prepare,

The anthem, and the organ's solemn sound,

Such as may strike my soul with ecstacy,
Such as may from yon' lofty walls rebound.

120

"Sweet music can the fiercest pains assuage:

She bids the soul to heav'n's blest mansions rise;
She calms despair, controuls infernal rage;
And deepest anguish, when it hears her, dies.

125

"And see, the mizzling, misty midnight reigns,
And no soft dews are on my eye-lids sent:
Here, stranger, lend thy hand, assist me, pray,
To walk a circuit of no large extent."

On my prest shoulders leaning, round he went,
And could have made the boldest spectre flee.
I led him up stairs, and I led him down,
But not one moment's rest from pain got he..

130

Up rush'd a band, with compasses and scales
To measure his slim carcase, long and lean.
"Be sure," said he, "to frame my coffin strong,
You, master workman, and your men, I mean;

135

*For if the Devil, so late my trusty friend,

Should get one hint where I am laid, from you,
Not with my soul content, he 'd seek to find
That mouldering mass of bones, my body, too!

140

"Of hardest ebon let the plank be found,

With clamps and ponderous bars secur'd around,
That if the box by Satan should be storm'd
It may be able for resistance found."

"Yes," said the master workman, "noble Death,
Your coffin shall be strong-that leave to me;
But who shall these your funeral dues discharge?
Nor friends nor pence you have, that I can see."

145

To this said Death, "You might have ask'd me, too,
Base caitiff, who are my executors,

150

Where my estate, and who the men that shall
Partake my substance and be call'd my heirs.

"Know, then, that hell is my inheritance;

The devil himself my funeral dues must pay:
Go-since you must be paid-go ask of him,
For he has gold, as fabling poets say."

155

Strait they retir'd-when thus he gave me charge,
Pointing from the light window to the west:
"Go three miles o'er the plain, and you shall see
A burying-yard of sinners dead, unblest.

160

"Amid the graves a spiry building stands,

Whose solemn knell resounding through the gloom
Shall call thee o'er the circumjacent lands
To the dull mansion destin'd for my tomb.

"There, since 't is dark, I 'll plant a glimmering light
Just snatch'd from hell, by whose reflected beams
Thou shalt behold a tomb-stone, full eight feet,
Fast by a grave replete with ghosts and dreams.

165

"And on that stone engrave this epitaph,
Since Death, it seems, must die like mortal men;
Yes, on that stone engrave this epitaph,
Though all hell's furies aim to snatch the pen:-

170

"Death in this tomb his weary bones hath laid,

Sick of dominion o'er the human kind:

Behold what devastations he hath made;

175

Survey the millions by his arm confin'd.

"Six thousand years has sovereign sway been mine; None but myself can real glory claim:

Great Regent of the world I reign'd alone,

And princes trembled when my mandate came.

180

"Vast and unmatch'd throughout the world, my fame

Takes place of gods, and asks no mortal date

No, by myself and by the heavens I swear

Not Alexander's name is half so great.

"Nor swords nor darts my prowess could withstand; All quit their arms and bow'd to my decree:

185

Even mighty JULIUS died beneath my band,

For slaves and Cesars were the same to me.

"Traveller, wouldst thou his noblest trophies seek,
Search in no narrow spot obscure for those;
The sea profound, the surface of all land,
Is moulded with the myriads of his foes."

190

O'er a dark field I held my dubious way,

Where Jack-a-lanthorn walk'd his lonely round;
Beneath my feet substantial darkness lay,

195

And screams were heard from the distemper'd ground.

Nor look'd I back, till to a far-off wood,
Trembling with fear, my weary feet had sped:

Dark was the night, but at the inchanted dome

I saw the infernal windows flaming red.

200

And from within the howls of Death I heard,

Cursing the dismal night that gave him birth,

Damning his ancient sire and mother sin,

Who at the gates of hell, accursed, brought him forth.

(For fancy gave to my enraptur'd soul

205

An eagle's eye, with keenest glance to see;

And bade those distant sounds distinctly roll,
Which, waking, never had affected me.)

Oft his pale breast with cruel hand he smote,
And, tearing from his limbs a winding-sheet,
Roar'd to the black skies, while the woods around,
As wicked as himself, his words repeat.

210

Thrice tow'rd the skies his meagre arms he rear'd,
Invok'd all hell and thunders on his head,

Bid light'nings fly, earth yawn, and tempests roar,
And the sea wrap him in its oozy bed.

215

"My life for one cool draught! O, fetch your springs! Can one unfeeling to my woes be found?

No friendly visage comes to my relief,

But ghosts impend and spectres hover round.

22C

"Though humbled now, dishearten'd, and distrest,
Yet, when admitted to the peaceful ground,
With heroes, kings, and conquerors I shall rest,
Shall sleep as safely and perhaps as sound."

Dim burnt the lamp; and now the phantom Death
Gave his last groans in horror and despair:
"All hell demands me hence!" he said, and threw
The red lamp hissing through the midnight air.

225

Trembling, across the plain my course I held,

And found the grave-yard, loitering through the gloom,

230

And in the midst a hell-red, wandering light,

Walking in fiery circles round the tomb. . .

At distance far, approaching to the tomb,

By lamps and lanthorns guided through the shade,
A coal-black chariot hurried through the gloom,
Spectres attending, in black weeds array'd,

235

Whose woeful forms yet chill my soul with dread:
Each wore a vest in Stygian chambers wove,
Death's kindred all-Death's horses they bestrode,
And gallop'd fiercely, as the chariot drove.

240

Each horrid face a grizly mask conceal'd;
Their busy eyes shot terror to my soul

As now and then, by the pale lanthorn's glare,
I saw them for their parted friend condole.

Before the herse Death's chaplain seem'd to go,
Who strove to comfort, what he could, the dead;
Talk'd much of Satan and the land of woe,
And many a chapter from the scriptures read.

245

At last he rais'd the swelling anthem high;
In dismal numbers seem'd he to complain:
The captive tribes that by Euphrates wept,
Their song was jovial to his dreary strain.

250

That done, they plac'd the carcase in the tomb,

To dust and dull oblivion now resign'd;

Then turn'd the chariot tow'rd the House of Night,
Which soon flew off and left no trace behind.

255

But as I stoop'd to write the appointed verse,
Swifter than thought the airy scene decay'd;
Blushing the morn arose, and from the east
With her gay streams of light dispell'd the shade.
About 1776.

260

1779, 1786.

FROM

THE BRITISH PRISON SHIP

Two hulks on Hudson's stormy bosom lie,
Two farther south affront the pitying eye:
There the black SCORPION at her mooring rides,
There STROMBOLO Swings yielding to the tides;
Here bulky JERSEY fills a larger space,
And HUNTER, to all hospitals disgrace.
Thou, SCORPION, fatal to thy crowded throng,
Dire theme of horror and Plutonian song,
Requir'st my lay-thy sultry decks I know,
And all the torments that exist below.
The briny wave that Hudson's bosom fills
Drain'd through her bottom in a thousand rills,
Rotten and old, replete with sighs and groans,
Scarce on the waters she sustain'd her bones.

5

ΙΟ

Here, doom'd to toil or founder in the tide,
At the moist pumps incessantly we ply'd;
Here, doom'd to starve, like famish'd dogs we tore
The scant allowance that our tyrants bore.

15

Remembrance shudders at this scene of fears:

Still in my view some English brute appears,
Some base-born Hessian slave walks threat'ning by,
Some servile Scot with murder in his eye

20

Still haunts my sight, as vainly they bemoan
Rebellions manag'd so unlike their own.

O may I never feel the poignant pain

25

To live subjected to such fiends again

Stewards and Mates that hostile Britain bore,

Cut from the gallows on their native shore;
Their ghastly looks and vengeance-beaming eyes
Still to my view in dismal colours rise.

30

O may I ne'er review these dire abodes,

These piles for slaughter, floating on the floods.