It has been suggested to me, that this change from restlessness to repose, in the mind of Sir Eustace, is wrought by a methodistic call; and it is admitted to be such: a sober and rational conversion could not have happened while the disorder of the brain continued. Yet the verses which follow, in a different measure, are not intended to make any religious persuasion appear ridiculous; they are to be supposed as the effect of memory in the disordered mind of the speaker, and, though evidently enthusiastic in respect to language, are not meant to convey any impropriety of sentiment. THE HALL OF JUSTICE. _IN TWO PARTS._ PART I. Confiteor facere hoc annos; sed et altera causa est, Anxietas animi, continuusque dolor. _Ovid_ [Epp. ex Ponto Lib. I. Ep. iv. vv. 7-8]. MAGISTRATE, VAGRANT, CONSTABLE, &c. VAGRANT. Take, take away thy barbarous hand, And let me to thy master speak; Remit awhile the harsh command, And hear me, or my heart will break. MAGISTRATE. Fond wretch! and what canst thou relate, But deeds of sorrow, shame, and sin? Thy crime is proved, thou know'st thy fate; But come, thy tale!--begin, begin!-- VAGRANT. My crime!--This sick'ning child to feed, I seized the food your witness saw; 10 I knew your laws forbade the deed, But yielded to a stronger law. Know'st thou, to Nature's great command All human laws are frail and weak? Nay! frown not--stay his eager hand, And hear me, or my heart will break. In this, th' adopted babe I hold With anxious fondness to my breast, My heart's sole comfort I behold, More dear than life, when life was bless'd; 20 I saw her pining, fainting, cold, I begg'd--but vain was my request. I saw the tempting food, and seized-- My infant-sufferer found relief; And, in the pilfer'd treasure pleased, Smiled on my guilt, and hush'd my grief. But I have griefs of other kind, Troubles and sorrows more severe; Give me to ease my tortured mind, Lend to my woes a patient ear; 30 And let me--if I may not find A friend to help--find one to hear. Yet nameless let me plead--my name Would only wake the cry of scorn; A child of sin, conceived in shame, Brought forth in wo, to misery born. My mother dead, my father lost, I wander'd with a vagrant crew; A common care, a common cost, Their sorrows and their sins I knew; 40 With them, by want on error forced, Like them, I base and guilty grew. Few are my years, not so my crimes; The age, which these sad looks declare, Is Sorrow's work, it is not Time's, And I am old in shame and care.