And then the Chapel-Night and Morn to pray,
Or mulct and threaten'd if he kept away;
No! not to be a Bishop-so he swore,
And at his College he was seen no more.
His Debts all paid, the Father with a sigh,
Plac'd him in Office-" Do, my Frederick, try;
“ Confine thyself a few short Months, and then-
He tried a Fortnight, and threw down the Pen.
Again Demands were hush'd: "My Son, you're free,
"But you're unsettled; take your Chance at Sea :"
So in few Days the Midshipman equipp'd,
Receiv'd the Mother's Blessing and was shipp’d.

Hard was her Fortune! soon compell'd to meet The wretched Stripling staggering through the Street; For, rash, impetuous, insolent and vain,

The Captain sent him to his Friends again:
About the Borough rov'd th' unhappy Boy,
And ate the Bread of every Chance-employ;⚫
Of Friends he borrow'd, and the Parents yet
In secret Fondness authoris'd the Debt;
The younger Sister, still a Child, was taught
To give with feign'd Affright the Pittance sought;
For now the Father cried-It is too late
'For Trial more-I leave him to his Fate,'-
Yet left him not; and with a kind of Joy
The Mother heard of her desponding Boy:
At length he sicken'd, and he found, when sick,
All Aid was ready, all Attendance quick;
A Fever seiz'd him, and at once was lost
The thought of Trespass, Error, Crime and Cost;
Th' indulgent Parents knelt beside the Youth,
They heard his Promise and believ'd his Truth;
And when the Danger lessen'd on their View,
They cast off Doubt, and Hope Assurance grew ;--

Nurs'd by his Sisters, cherish'd by his Sire,
Begg'd to be glad, encourag'd to aspire,
His Life, they said, would now all Care repay,
And he might date his Prospects from that Day;
A Son, a Brother to his Home receiv'd,

They hop'd for all things, and in all believ'd.

And now will Pardon, Comfort, Kindness, draw The Youth from Vice? will Honour, Duty, Law? Alas! not all: the more the Trials lent,

The less he seem'd to ponder and repent;
Headstrong, determin'd in his own Career,
He thought Reproof unjust and Truth severe;
The Soul's Disease was to its crisis come,
He first abus'd and then abjur'd his Home;
And when he chose a Vagabond to be,
He made his Shame his Glory"I'll be free."
Friends, Parents, Relatives, Hope, Reason, Love,
With anxious Ardour for that Empire strove;
In vain their Strife, in vain the Means applied,
They had no Comfort, but that all were tried;
One strong vain Trial made, the Mind to move,
Was the last effort of Parental Love.

Ev'n then he watch'd his Father from his Home,
And to his Mother would for Pity come,
Where, as he made her tender Terrors rise,
He talk'd of Death, and threaten'd for Supplies.
Against a Youth so vicious and undone,

All Hearts were clos'd, and every Door but one;
The Players receiv'd him, they with open Heart
Gave him his Portion and assign'd his Part;
And ere three Days were added to his Life,
He found a Home, a Duty, and a Wife.

His present Friends, though they were nothing nice, Nor ask'd how vicious he, or what his Vice,

Still they expected he should now attend
To the joint Duty as an useful Friend;

The Leader too declar'd, with Frown severe,

That none should pawn a Robe that Kings might wear; And much it mov'd him, when he Hamlet play'd,

To see his Father's Ghost so drunken made:

:

Then too the Temper, the unbending Pride
Of this Ally would no Reproof abide :—
So leaving these, he march'd away and join'd
Another Troop, and other Goods purloin'd;
And other Characters, both gay and sage,
Sober and sad, made stagger on the Stage;
Then to Rebuke, with arrogant Disdain,
He gave Abuse and sought a Home again.

Thus changing Scenes, but with unchanging Vice,
Engag'd by many, but with no one twice:
Of this, a last and poor Resource, bereft,
He to himself, unhappy Guide! was left-
And who shall say where guided? to what Seats
Of starving Villainy? of Thieves and Cheats?
In that sad Time of many a dismal Scene
Had he a Witness (not inactive) been;
Had leagued with petty Pilferers, and had crept
Where of each Sex degraded Numbers slept;"
With such Associates he was long allied,
Where his Capacity for Ill was tried,

And that once lost, the Wretch was cast aside:
For now, though willing with the worst to act,
He wanted Powers for an important Fact;
And while he felt as lawless Spirits feel,
His Hand was palsied, and he couldn't steal.

By these rejected, is there Lot so strange,
So low! that he could suffer by the change?
Yes! the new Station as a Fall we judge,→
He now became the Harlots' humble Drudge,

Their Drudge in common: they combin❜d to save
Awhile from starving their submissive Slave;
For now his Spirit left him, and his Pride,
His Scorn, his Rancour, and Resentment died;
Few were his Feelings-but the keenest these,
The rage of Hunger, and the sigh for Ease;
He who abus'd Indulgence, now became
By Want subservient and by Misery tame;
A Slave, he begg'd Forbearance; bent with Pain,
He shunn'd the Blow,-" Ah! strike me not again."
Thus was he found: the Master of a Hoy
Saw the sad Wretch, whom he had known a Boy;
At first in doubt, but Frederick laid aside
All Shame, and humbly for his Aid applied :
He, tam'd and smitten with the Storms gone by,
Look'd for Compassion through one living Eye,
And stretch'd th' unpalsied Hand: the Seaman felt
His honest Heart with gentle Pity melt,

And his small Boon with cheerful Frankness dealt;
Then made Inquiries of th' unhappy Youth,
Who told, nor Shame forbade him, all the Truth.
"Young Frederick Thompson to a Chandler's Shop
"By Harlots ordered and afraid to stop!—
"What! our good Merchant's Favourite to be seen
"In State so loathsome and in Dress so mean?"-

So thought the Seaman as he bade adieu, And, when in Port, related all he knew.

But Time was lost, Inquiry came too late, Those whom he serv'd knew nothing of his Fate; No! they had seiz'd on what the Sailor gave, Nor bore Resistance from their abject Slave; The Spoil obtain'd they cast him from the Door, Robb'd, beaten, hungry, pain'd, diseas'd and poor. Then Nature (pointing to the only Spot

Which still had Comfort for so dire a Lot),

Although so feeble, led him on the Way,
And Hope look'd forward to a happier Day:
He thought, poor Prodigal! a Father yet
His Woes would pity and his Crimes forget;
Nor had he Brother who with Speech severe
Would check the Pity or refrain the Tear:
A lighter Spirit in his Bosom rose,

As near the Road he sought an hour's Repose.
And there he found it: he had left the Town,
But Buildings yet were scatter'd up and down;
To one of these, half-ruin'd and half-built,
Was trac'd this Child of Wretchedness and Guilt;
There on the Remnant of a Beggar's Vest,
Thrown by in scorn! the Sufferer sought for Rest;
There was this Scene of Vice and Wo to close,
And there the wretched Body found Repose.