Of such as, wandering near her nightly round,
Forestal the market of her wanton gains.
* * * * *
The Hangman’s Speech.
Here bleeds his head upon the traitor’s stage,
A wretch to Virtue and to Truth unknown,
Foul Faction frown’d not on his lying page,
And Infamy had mark’d him for her own.
Large was his bounty,—so he would you cram,—
The law rewarded him beyond his hope,