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                              THE CONVICT’S
                                Farewell:


                               WITH ADVICE
                                    TO
                                CRIMINALS,
                                  BEFORE
                                   AND
                               AFTER TRIAL.

                                * * * * *

                               _IN VERSE_.

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                          BY J. PARKERSON, JUN.

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                           _PRICE THREE-PENCE_.

                                * * * * *

                                 NORWICH:
              PRINTED BY R. WALKER, NEAR THE DUKE’S PALACE.




THE CONVICT’S FAREWELL, &c.


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   Farewell ye partner of my woes, farewell!
   The finest language could but faintly tell,
   What I now feel in writing this adieu,
   What you must suffer when I’m far from you.
   There was a time when happiness my lot,
   I liv’d serenely in my little cot;
   No wicked thoughts did there disturb my rest,
   My children round me, by a father prest;
   No father now, methinks I hear them say,
   He’s gone from us, he’s hurried far away.
   Nightly I’ve view’d them in my flurri’d dreams,
   Seen their wet eyes and heard their dreadful screams;
   Methought my wife came to my lonely cell,
   To say adieu, to bid a long farewell;
   Soon I awoke and to increase my pains,
   I felt my legs encompass’d round with chains;
   Then, then I cried, oh drunkenness thou cause,
   Of this distress, and made me break those laws
   That wise men made for every man to keep,
   By them deluded, plung’d in crimes so deep.
   First step to ruin was a love of dice,
   With cards the great promoter of our vice;
   I wish those men who do with such things play,
   Would ever cast them from their hands away;
   I wish all Magistrates would search around,
   And punish Publicans where they are found:
   They caused me first my Master to neglect;
   And after lost me honest men’s respect;
   They also led me from a virtuous wife,
   And mostly caused my lad disgrace and strife.
   View Public Houses, every wealthy Squire,
   And force by ten, the spendthrift to retire;
   By such a plan, the labouring poor would rise,
   Soon as the Sun adorns the heavenly skies:
   I’ve stated what have brought me to this end,
   And what has lost me every earthly friend;
   Except a wife—oh God protect and bless,
   Her and our offspring now in great distress.
   Young men be cautious how ye spend your time,
   A bad acquaintance hurries on a crime;
   Sometimes an artful female tries her power,
   To trap the giddy in a thoughtless hour;
   When she has work’d the captive to her will,
   She gladly sees your taking sorrow’s pill;
   Cause you to leave a virtuous homely wife,
   And lead a sad disgraceful wicked life;
   Allur’d by art she’ll bring you to distress,
   And like a Millwood to you falsely press:
   Then be the first your actions to betray,
   A fiend like such, caus’d me to go astray
   From them I love, from those my heart hold dear,
   And shall till death their memories revere;
   When I am clos’d in transport on the sea,
   Doubtless my love you’ll sometimes sigh for me.
   Bring up my little ones in such a way,
   As they will holy keep the sabbath-day;
   Early in life do in their minds reveal,
   The dreadful crimes to swear, to lie, or steal.
   Hannah my eldest daughter place her where,
   She’s constant under virtue’s eye and care;
   Let her not learn the weaving trade, you’ll find,
   That such a course may injure much her mind;
   Females are ready to acquire that art,
   Soon as they wish fair virtue to depart,
   Unwilling oft in service for to be,
   Where they can’t dress and have their liberty;
   But if with parents they can work at home,
   Nightly they hope with idle folks to roam:
   At my late sentence I can not complain,
   Altho’ the law my body do detain;
   Justice tho’ slow, has overtaken me,
   Abroad for life, I shall be kept from thee;
   On a just God for ever I will trust,
   I know his will is always right and just.
   Tis now too late again to speak to you,
   Which is the cause of writing this adieu.
   No partner now to sooth my aching heart,
   Reflection galls me, at myself I start,
   With aching heart and in my lonely cell,
   I bid my babes and you,—a long farewell.
   Methinks I see the transport full in view,
   And I with horror meet the harden’d crew;
   Full well I know I ne’er shall see you more,
   Nor plant a foot-step on my native shore;
   On foreign land I’m doom’d my days to toil,
   And with vile wretches cultivate the soil.
   Stripes I must bare perhaps when quite unwell,
   And hear the convicts’ melancholy yell;
   A pang I feel when e’er I close the night,
   And wish a virtuous wife was in my sight:
   England adieu, may you in trade increase,
   And free from inward tumults rest in peace.
   Our Chaplain well I know, will soon impart,
   His friendly aid to cheer the drooping heart;
   I hope my children he will learn to read,
   And teach them early to peruse the creed:
   The bell is rung, the waggon is in view,
   Wife and dear children now, adieu! adieu!
   At thoughts of leaving this my native shore,
   Unmans me quite and I can say no more;
   I will thro’ life, a better course pursue,
   Tho’ far away shall leave my heart with you.




ADVICE, &c.


   Vile men, abstain from every artful plan,
   When found out disgrace the name of man;
   Let those who steal, repent and sin no more,
   Ere Law decrees, it’s vengeance on them pour:
   From trifling things, we greater ills pursue,
   Till the Law’s fangs are brought within our view;
   Stop, stop bad courses, ere it be too late,
   And justice dooms you to a culprit’s fate.
   Riots avoid, tho’ mischief none you do,
   Your being at them, brings a stain on you;
   Those who look on, will afterwards repent,
   And share alike in point of punishment:
   The Law expressly properly declare,
   He adds to tumult, that is present there;
   Take my advice, let reason bear her sway,
   From scenes of discord, always keep away;
   You’d think it hard, a worthless savage crew,
   Should gain by plunder, all your goods from you:
   The worst of men are foremost on a plan,
   To gain by rapine, every way they can;
   Do you suppose, that wasting other’s store,
   Can ease the hardships of the labouring poor;
   No such a course, our present ills increase,
   And robs the Nation of its inward peace.
   From late example, all are taught to know,
   Dreadful his fate, that strikes confusion’s blow;
   Then let us quiet at our Cots remain,
   And better times will cheer us once again.
   All means are trying, comforts to restore,
   To ease the hardships of the labouring poor;
   Think what distress awaits dishonest ways,
   Immur’d in prison many wretched days;
   Not only days, perhaps they shed their tears,
   In Foreign Lands, for many dismal years;
   Not only years, perhaps are doom’d for life,
   Abroad to roam, from children, home, and wife;
   Should it your lot in prison for to be,
   Implore with fervent prayer the Deity;
   Who will in time if you sincerely pray,
   Lessen your troubles each succeeding day:
   It’s thro’ our Saviour’s aid that we should crave,
   A gracious pardon ere we meet the grave;
   His intercession with the King of Kings,
   Alone can save you, from eternal stings.
   When at the court, for trial you appear,
   Speak nought but truth, you better for it fare;
   For should you dare to introduce a lie,
   Justice’s sharp eye each falsehood will descry:
   I’ve known a perjur’d witness brought to swear,
   The guilty felon, of his crime is clear;
   Dismay’d, confus’d, he feels alas! too late,
   Such impious conduct greatly aggravate;
   Besides he answers at the awful day,
   For causing others from the truth to stray.
   Whatever happens in this vale of tears,
   Our Maker knows, give him your fervent prayers:
   Let your demeanor if in prison be,
   Such as the jailor can contrition see;
   For his report may mitigate your doom,
   And sometimes save you from a prison’s gloom.
   Religious Books if you can read attend,
   They are in solitude the pris’ner’s friend;
   When at the Chapel, do not cast away,
   By inattention what the Chaplain say:
   It’s pure Religion cheers each good man’s heart,
   And will in time its blessings soon impart;
   Such as perhaps you never knew before,
   And doubtless will your peace of mind restore.
   The Bible read, when in your dismal cell,
   Read it attentive, ere you bid farewell;
   To him who may companion with you be;
   Your soul that night may be required of thee.

      A scene I witnessed, and not long time since,
   Would stop the errors of an hardened prince;
   Three men were sentenc’d by the Law to die,
   To hear them mourn, to see the drooping eye;
   Would cause sensations of a painful kind,
   While anxious cares corode the tortur’d mind.
   A pious Chaplain strove, to bring in view,
   The proffer’d pardon if repentants true.
   He said that God was merciful and just,
   To implore forgiveness, on his word to trust;
   There is a record where the scripture say,
   Those that repent he will not cast away;
   A sigh or tear cannot that boon impart,
   It must be fervent from the head and heart:
   Thro’ Jesus’ aid vile sinners doth he save,
   If true repentants, ere they meet the grave.
   Each wish’d they could recal, the time that’s past,
   And they would live as if each day the last:
   Just before death, they pray’d me to implore,
   An erring mortal to transgress no more;
   Hope their lov’d Chaplain might, for ever be
   When call’d on high, blessed to eternity;
   They knew his worth his heart is of a kind,
   That plants soft pity to a feeling mind:
   Deeker, as Chaplain, few can e’er excel,
   Belov’d by all who bids the jail farewell.
   When first I saw these wretched men in jail,
   Before their trial, did their fate bewail;
   Soon as the sentence met each anxious ear,
   Resign’d, and true repentants did appear;
   One and all cried out, oh that God how just!
   To stop our sad career, on thee we’ll trust;
   One cause alone have made this sore distress,
   Neglecting Lord’s day and our drunkenness.

                                * * * * *

            Walker, Printer, near the Duke’s Palace, Norwich.






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