or kind,

Would parish-boys to needy tradesmen bind:

They in their want a trifling sum would take,

And toiling slaves of piteous orphans make.

Such Peter sought, and when a lad was found,

The sum was dealt him, and the slave was bound.

Some few in town observed in Peter’s trap

A boy, with jacket blue and woollen cap;

But none inquired how Peter used the rope,

Or what the bruise that made the stripling stoop;

None could the ridges on his back behold,

None sought him shiv’ring in the winter’s cold;

None put the question, — “Peter, dost thou give

The boy his food? — What, man! the lad must live:

Consider, Peter, let the child have bread,

He’ll serve the better if he’s stroked and fed”.

None reason’d thus — and some, on hearing cries,

Said calmly, “Grimes is at his exercise”.

   Pinn’d, beaten, cold, pinch’d, threaten’d, and abused —

His efforts punish’d and his food refused, —

Awake tormented, — soon aroused from sleep, —

Struck if he wept, and yet compell’d to weep,

The trembling boy dropp’d down and strove to pray,

Received a blow, and trembling turn’d away,

Or sobb’d and hid his piteous face; — while he,

The savage master, grinn’d in horrid glee:

He’d now the power he ever loved to show,

A feeling being subject to his blow.

   Thus lived the lad, in hunger, peril, pain,

His tears despised, his supplications vain:

Compe’lld by fear to lie, by need to steal,

His bed uneasy and unbless’d his meal,

For three sad years the boy his tortures bore,

And then his pains and trials were no more.

   “How died he, Peter?” when the people said,

He growl’d — “I found him lifeless in his bed;”

Then tried for softer tone, and sigh’d, “Poor Sam is dead”.

Yet murmurs were there, and some questions ask’d —

How he was fed, how punish’d, and how task’d?

Much they suspected, but they little proved,

And Peter pass’d untroubled and unmoved.

   Another boy with equal ease was found,

The money granted, and the victim bound;

And what his fate? — One night it chanced he fell

From the boat’s mast and perish’d in her well,

Where fish were living kept, and where the boy

(So reason’d men) could not himself destroy: —

   “Yes! so it was” said Peter, “in his play,

(For he was idle both by night and day,)

He climb’d the main-mast and then fell below;” —

Then show’d his corpse, and pointed to the blow.

“What said the jury?” — they were long in doubt,

But sturdy Peter faced the matter out:

So they dismissed him, saying at the time,

“Keep fast your hatchway when you’ve boys who climb”.

This hit the conscience, and he colour’d more

Than for the closest questions put before.

 Thus all his fears the verdict set aside,

And at the slave-shop Peter still applied.

   Then came a boy, of manners soft and mild, —

Our seamen’s wives with grief beheld the child;

All thought (the poor themselves) that he was one

Of gentle blood, some noble sinner’s son,

Who had, belike, deceived some humble maid,

Whom he had first seduced and then betray’d: —

However this, he seem’d a gracious lad,

In grief submissive, and with patience sad.

Passive he labour’d, till his slender frame

Bent with his loads, and he at length was lame:

Strange that a frame so weak could bear so long

The grossest insult and the foulest wrong;

But there were causes — in the town they gave

Fire, food, and comfort, to the gentle slave;

And though stern Peter, with a cruel hand,

And knotted rope, enforced the rude command,

Yet he consider’d what he’d lately felt,

And his vile blows with selfish pity dealt.

One day such draughts the cruel fisher made,

He could not vend them in his borough-trade,

But sail’d for London-mart: the boy was ill,

But ever humbled to his master’s will;

And on the river, where they smoothly sail’d,

He strove with terror and awhile prevail’d;

But new to danger on the angry sea,

He clung affrighten’d to his master’s knee:

The boat grew leaky and the wind was strong,

Rough was the passage and the time was long;

His liquor fail’d, and Peter’s wrath arose, —

No more is known — the rest we must suppose,

Or learn of Peter: — Peter says, he “spied

The stripling’s danger and for harbour tried;

Meantime the fish, and then th’ apprentice died”.

The pitying women raised a clamour round,

And weeping said, “Thou hast thy ’prentice drown’d”.

Now the stern man was summon’d to the hall,

To tell his tale before the burghers all:

He gave th’ account; profess’d the lad he loved,

And kept his brazen features all unmoved.

The mayor himself with tone severe replied, —

“Henceforth with thee shall never boy abide;

Hire thee a freeman, whom thou durst not beat,

But who, in thy despite, will sleep and eat:

Free thou art now! — again shouldst thou appear,

Thou’lt find thy sentence, like thy soul, severe”.

Alas! for Peter not a helping hand,

So was he hated, could he now command;

Alone he row’d his boat, alone he cast

His nets beside, or made his anchor fast:

To hold a rope or hear a curse was none, —

He toil’d and rail’d; he groan’d and swore alone.