Richard Savage, d. 1743. In his poem “The Wanderer” are these lines:─
“From me (she cries), pale wretch, thy comfort claim,
Born of despair, and Suicide my name!
Why should thy life a moment’s pain endure?
Here every object proffers grief a cure.
She points where leaves of hemlock blackening shoot!
Fear not, pluck! eat (said she) the sovereign root!
Or leap yon rock, possess a watery grave,
And leave thy sorrow to the wind and wave!
Or mark─this poniard thus from misery frees!