522 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1804. 



To shed their baneful influence ; whilst his voice, 

 Like thunder, or the cannon's sudden burst, 

 Three times is heard, and thrice the roofs resound ! 

 A sudden paleness gathers in my face ; 

 Thro' all my Ihnbs a stifl'ning horror spreads, 

 Cold as the dews of death, nor heed my eyes 

 Their wonted function ; but in stupid gaze 

 Ken the fell monster ; from my trembling hands 

 The thumb-worn volume drops. Oh ! dire presage 

 Of instant woe ! for now the mighty sound, 

 Pregnant with dismal tidings, once again 

 Strikes my ajtonish'd ears. Transfix'd with awe, 

 And senseless for a time, I stand ; but soon 

 By friendly jog, or neighb'ring whisper rous'd, 

 Obey the dire injunction ; straight I loose 

 Depending brogues, and to the awful stroke 

 Of magisterial vengeance, daily gorg'd, 

 (As Moloch erst, with infant tears and blood) 

 With indignation bow ;— Nor long delays 

 The monarch ; from his palace stalking down. 

 With visage all inflam'd, his sable robe 

 Sweeping in length'ning folds along the ground. 

 He shakes his sceptre, and th' impending scourge 

 Brandishes high ; nor tears nor shrieks avail ; 

 But with impetuous fury it descends, 

 Imprinting horrid wounds, with fatal flow 

 Of blood attended, and convulsive pangs. 



Curst be the wretch, for ever doom'd to bear 

 Infernal whippings, he whose savage hands 

 First grasp'd these barb'rous weapons ; bitter cause 

 Of foul disgrace, and many a dolorous groan, 

 To hapless school-boy. — Could it not suffice 

 I groan'd and toil'd beneath the merciless weight 

 By stern relentless tyranny imposed ; 

 But scourges too, and cudgels, were reserv'd 

 To goad my wretched sides ; this wretched life 

 Loading with heavier ills ; a life expos'd 

 To all the woes of hunger, toil, distress ; 

 Cut off from ev'ry genial source of bliss ; 

 From ev'ry bland amusement wont to soothe 

 , The youthful breast — except when father Time, 

 In joyful change, rolls round the festive hour, 

 That gives this meagre, pining figure back 

 To parent fondness, and its native roofs ! 

 Fir'd with the thought, then, then my tow'ring sou\ 

 Rises superior to its load, and spurns 

 Its proud oppressors, frantic with delight, 



