"No stain was upon your name;
Lively, modest girl you were;
Would you ne'er had felt love's flame!
Yet you had no cause to shame,
But bore good character.
"If I live, your murderer's neck
Pays the forfeit of his crime!
Loss of time I will not reck—
Nothing shall my ardor check,
Should he seek other clime!"
Speaking thus, he placed his back
Firm against the outer door;
As he had of voice no lack,
Shouted, till his face grew black,
And stamped upon the floor!
Presently the neighbors come,
While poor Bristol trembling stands.
Now they are within the room,
And proceed to seal his doom
By binding fast his hands.
Shifts the scene into a Court,
Near to suffocation full;
Counsel unto lies resort,
And the jury loud exhort
To make proceedings null.
Bristol's friends had paid them gold,
And they do their best to show
Black is white: as, when of old,
Satan, without fee, lies told,
To work our Parents' woe.
Let them do their very best,
There's a witness all must hear!
It is in John Bristol's breast,
And it cannot, will not rest,
Till all the truth appear!
All his quivering lips observe,
While he now attempts to speak.
Conscience cries, "Come, muster nerve.
You must not from duty swerve;
You shall proceedings check!"
He speaks; all eyes quickly turn
On the wretched culprit's face.
"I my crime most deeply mourn!
Thoughts of it my vitals burn;
I dare not hope for grace!"
Verdict found, and sentence passed.
In three days condemned to die;
Thus he's caught by Law at last;
Fetters bind his limbs quite fast.
As he, in cell, doth lie.