It is not want, tho' that is bad,

Nor war, tho' that is worse:
But Brins brave endure, alas!
A self-tormenting curse.

Go where you will throughout the realm
You'll find the reigning sin,
In cities, villages, and towns;
-The monster's name is. GIN.

The prince of darkness never sent
To man a deadlier foe;

My name is Legion,' it may say,
The source of every woe.

Nor does the fiend alone deprive
The labourer of his wealth;
That is not all, it murders too
His honest name and health.

We say the times are grievous hard,
And hard they are, 'tis true;
But, drunkards, to your wives and babes
They're harder made by you.

The drunkard's tax is self-impos'd,

Like every other sin;

The taxes altogether lay

No weight so great as GIN.

The state compels no man to drink,
Compels no man to game;

'Tis GIN and gambling sink him down
To rags, and want, and shame.

The

The kindest husband, chang'd by GIN,
Is for a tyrant known;

The tenderest heart that nature made,
Becomes a heart of stone.

In many a house the harmless babes
Are poorly cloth'd and fed:
Because the craving GIN-SHOP takes
The childrens' daily bread.

Come, neighbour, take a walk with me,
Thro' many a London street;

And see the cause of penury
In hundreds we shall meet.

We shall not need to travel far-
Behold that great man's door;
He well discerns that idle crew
From the deserving poor.

He will relieve with liberal hand
The child of honest Thrift;

But where long scores at GIN-SHOPS stand
He will with-hold his gift.

Behold that shivering female there,

Who plies her woeful trade!

'Tis ten to one you'll find that GIN,
That hopeless wretch has made.

Look down those steps, and view below
Yon cellar under ground;

There every want and every woe,

And every sin is found.

Those

Those little wretches trembling there,
With hunger and with cold,
Were by their parents' love of GIN,
To sin and misery sold.

Blest be those friends to human kind
Who take these wretches up,
Ere they have drunk the bitter dregs
Of their sad parents' cup.

Look thro' that prison's iron bar,
Look thro' that dismal grate;
And learn what dire misfortune brought

So terrible a fate.

The debtor and the felon too,

Tho' differing much in sin;

Too oft you'll find were thither brought
By all-destroying GIN.

Yet Heaven forbid I should confound
Calamity with guilt!

Or name the debtor's lesser fault,
With blood of brother spilt.

To prison dire misfortune oft
The guiltless debtor brings;
Yet oft'ner far it will be found
From GIN the misery springs.

See the pale manufact'rer there,
How lank and lean he lies!
How haggard is his sickly cheek!
How dim his hollow eyes!

The Philanthropic Society.

He

He plied the loom with good success,
His wages still were high;
Twice what the village lab'rer gains,
His master did supply.

No book debts kept him from his cash,
All paid as soon as due;

His wages on the Saturday

To fail he never knew.

How amply had his gains suffic'd,
On wife and children spent!
But all must for his pleasures go:
All to the GIN-SHOP went.

in years,

See that apprentice, young
But hackney'd long in sin;

What made him rob his master's till?
Alas! 'twas love of GIN.

That serving-man-I knew him once'
So jaunty, spruce, and smart!
Why did he steal, then pawn the plate?
"Twas GIN ensnar'd his heart.

But hark! what dismal sound was that?
'Tis Saint Sepulchre's bell,

It tolls, alas for human guilt!

Some malefactor's knell.

O! woeful sound! O? what could cause, Such punishment and sin?

1

Hark! hear his words, he owns the causeBAD COMPANY, and GIN!

And

And when the future lot is fix'd,

Of darkness, fire, and chains,
How can the drunkard hope to 'scape.
Those everlasting pains?

For if the murd'rer's doom'd to woe,
As holy-writ declares,

The drunkard with SELF-murderers
That dreadful portion shares.

THE

EXECUTION

OF

WILD ROBERT.

BEING

A WARNING TO ALL PARENTS.

Z

WILD

ILD ROBERT was a graceless youth,
And bold in every sin;

In early life with petty thefts

His course he did begin.

But those who deal in lesser sins,

In great will soon offend;

And petty thefts not check'd betimes,
In murder soon may end.
B

And