But yearns to think upon the fatal day
That first seduc’d to sin his pliant mind?
No soul so callous but remorse may wring,
No heart so hard but grief may teach to sigh;
Contrition forces heartfelt tears to spring,
And melts to tenderness the sternest eye.
For him, the master of the pilfering herd,
Whom certain punishment attends, though late;
If, when his wretched carcase is interr’d,
Some curious person should enquire his fate;