But, as from the windows the ladies he spy'd,
Like a beau in the box, he bow'd low on each side;
And, when his last speech the loud hawkers did cry,
He swore from his cart, "It was all a damn'd lye!"
The hangman for pardon fell down on his knee;
Tom gave him a kick in the guts for his fee:
Then said, I must speak to the people a little;
But I'll see you all damn'd before I will whittle[1].
My honest friend Wild[2] (may he long hold his place)
He lengthen'd my life with a whole year of grace.
Take courage, dear comrades, and be not afraid,
Nor slip this occasion to follow your trade;
My conscience is clear, and my spirits are calm,
And thus I go off without prayer-book or psalm;
Then follow the practice of clever Tom Clinch,
Who hung like a hero, and never would flinch.
POPE has the talent well to speak,
But not to reach the ear;
His loudest voice is low and weak,
The dean too deaf to hear.
A while they on each other look,
Then different studies choose;
The dean sits plodding on a book;
Pope walks, and courts the Muse.
- ↑ A cant word for confessing at the gallows.
- ↑ The noted thief-catcher, under keeper of Newgate, who was hanged for receiving stolen goods.
