5
Counts out the grains of poison it requires
To do the deed his hellish heart desires;
Sees that the deadly drug works grief and pain,
And yet administers the same again;
Deals out the poisoned cheese, egg-flip, and wine,
And, smiling, says, “My darling, it is fine!”
And, when at last he has deprived his wife
Of precious health and all the joys of life,
And thinks that now the fitting time has come,
He sends her to her everlasting home;
And then declares, his murd’rous deed to hide,
It was of gastrie fever that she died!
Compared with this, the other crime is light,—
This is a mighty mountain—that a mite.
Against this deed the Heavens indignant frown,
And Hell opes wide to let the monster down,
While Earth, surcharged with horror and dismay,
Employs a rope to swing the wretch away!
But, first, the lion of the British law
Secures the culprit with his mighty claw;
And, when assured that he is lawful prey,
Squeezes the convict till he turns to clay!
It wins the admiration of the mind
To see the learning, skill, and truth combined,
In dealing with this most notorious case,
To clothe the guilty with deserved disgrace,
And turn the poisoner, with his every fault,
Into a pillar of preserving salt.
That others, warned from those vile ways he trod,
May flee temptation, through the graee of God.
