Thus changing scenes, but with unchanging vice, Engaged by many, but with no one twice: 300 Of this, a last and poor resource, bereft, He to himself, unhappy guide! was left-- And who shall say where guided? to what seats Of starving villany? of thieves and cheats? In that sad time, of many a dismal scene Had he a witness (not inactive) been; Had leagued with petty pilferers, and had crept, Where of each sex degraded numbers slept. With such associates he was long allied, } Where his capacity for ill was tried, 310 } And, that once lost, the wretch was cast aside; } For now, though willing with the worst to act, He wanted powers for an important fact; And, while he felt as lawless spirits feel, His hand was palsied, and he couldn't steal. By these rejected, is there lot so strange, So low, that he could suffer by the change? Yes! the new station as a fall we judge-- He now became the harlot's humble drudge, Their drudge in common: they combined to save 320 Awhile from starving their submissive slave; For now his spirit left him, and his pride, His scorn, his rancour, and resentment died; Few were his feelings--but the keenest these, The rage of hunger, and the sigh for ease; He who abused indulgence, now became By want subservient and by misery tame; A slave, he begg'd forbearance; bent with pain, He shunn'd the blow--"Ah! strike me not again." Thus was he found: the master of a hoy 330 Saw the sad wretch, whom he had known a boy At first in doubt; but Frederick laid aside All shame, and humbly for his aid applied. He, tamed and smitten with the storms gone by, Look'd for compassion through one living eye, And stretch'd th' unpalsied hand; the seaman felt } His honest heart with gentle pity melt, } And his small boon with cheerful frankness dealt; } Then made inquiries of th' unhappy youth, Who told, nor shame forbade him, all the truth. 340 "Young Frederick Thompson to a chandler's shop By harlots order'd and afraid to stop!-- What! our good merchant's favourite to be seen In state so loathsome and in dress so mean?"-- So thought the seaman as he bade adieu, And, when in port, related all he knew. But time was lost, inquiry came too late, Those whom he served knew nothing of his fate; No! they had seized on what the sailor gave, Nor bore resistance from their abject slave; 350 The spoil obtain'd, they cast him from the door, Robb'd, beaten, hungry, pain'd, diseased and poor. Then nature (pointing to the only spot Which still had comfort for so dire a lot,) Although so feeble, led him on the way, And hope look'd forward to a happier day.