“’Gainst nature’s cries, he arm’d his harden’d breast;
“For when his parents were to earth convey’d,
“He smil’d and spurned compassion, as a jest.
“Now press’d with guilt, he’ll feel its sharpest sting;
“Great his transgressions, and but small his hope;
“He’ll give the Sheriff (all he’ll have) a ring,
“And gain from Justice, all he fear’d—a rope!
“No farther seek his vices to disclose,
“But leave the wretch unpitied to deplore
“His ill-spent life, till breaking his repose,