Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SARAH PALMER, ALIAS SLIM SALI, by EDWARD MOORE (1712-1757)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SARAH PALMER, ALIAS SLIM SALI, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The prisoner was at large indicted
Last Line: And robs or murders whom she pleases.
Subject(s): Crime & Criminals; Trials


THE TRIAL OF

FOR PRIVATELY STEALING.

THE prisoner was at large indicted,
For that by thirst of gain excited,
One day in July last, at tea,
And in the house of Mrs. P.,
From the left breast of E. M. Gent.,
With base felonious intent,
Did then and there a heart with strings,
Rest, quiet, peace, and other things,
Steal, rob, and plunder; all of them
The chattels of the said E. M.
The prosecutor swore, last May
(The month he knew, but not the day)
He left his friends in Town, and went
Upon a visit down in Kent;
That, staying there a month or two,
He spent his time, as others do,
In riding, walking, fishing, swimming,
But being much inclin'd to women,
And young and wild, and no great reasoner,
He got acquainted with the prisoner.
He own'd 'twas rumour'd in those parts
That sh'd a trick of stealing hearts,
And from fifteen to twenty-two
Had made the devil-and-all to do:
But Mr. W. the Vicar
(And no man brews you better liquor)
Spoke of her thefts as tricks of youth,
The frolics of a girl, forsooth;
Things now were on another score,
He said, for she was twenty-four.
However, to make matters short,
And not to trespass on the court,
The lady was discover'd soon,
And thus it was: One afternoon,
The ninth of July last, or near it,
(As to the day he could not swear it)
In company at Mrs. P.'s,
Where folks say any thing they please,
Dean L. and Lady Mary by,
And Fanny waiting on Miss Y.,
(He own'd he was inclin'd to think
Both were a little in their drink)
The prisoner ask'd, and call'd him Cousin,
How many kisses made a dozen?
That being, as he own'd, in liquor,
The question made his blood run quicker;
And, sense and reason in eclipse,
He vow'd he'd score them on her lips:
That, rising up to keep his word,
He got as far as kiss the third,
And would have counted t'other nine,
(And so all present did opine,)
But that he felt a sudden dizziness
That quite undid him for the business;
His speech, he said, began to falter,
His eyes to stare, his mouth to water,
His breast to thump without cessation,
And all within one conflagration.
'Bless me! (says Fanny) what's the matter?
And Lady Mary look'd hard at her,
And stamp'd and wish'd the prisoner further,
And cried out, 'Part them, or there's murther!'
That still he held the prisoner fast,
And would have stood it to the last,
But struggling to go through the rest,
He felt a pain across his breast,
A sort of sudden twinge, he said,
That seem'd almost to strike him dead;
And after that such cruel smarting
He thought the soul and body parting:
That then he let the prisoner go,
And stagger'd off a step or so,
And thinking that his heart was ill,
He begg'd of Miss Y.'s maid to feel:
That Fanny stepp'd before the rest
And laid her hand upon his breast,
But, mercy on us! what a stare
The creature gave! no heart was there:
Souse went her fingers in the hole,
Whence heart and strings and all were stole:
That Fanny turn'd and told the prisoner
She was a thief, and so she'd christen her;
And that it was a burning shame,
And brought the house an evil name;
And if she did not put the heart in,
The man would pine and die for certain.
The prisoner then was in her airs,
And bid her mind her own affairs,
And told his Reverence, and the rest of 'em,
She was as honest as the best of 'em:
That Lady Mary and Dean L.
Rose up and said 'twas mighty well;
But that in general terms they said it,
A heart was gone, and some one had it;
Words would not do, for search they must,
And search they would, and her the first:
That then the prisoner dropp'd her anger,
And said, she hop'd they would not hang her;
That all she did was meant in jest,
And there the heart was and the rest:
That then the Dean cry'd out, O fie!
And sent in haste for Justice I.,
Who, though he knew her friends and pitied her,
Call'd her hard names, and so committed her.
The parties present swore the same,
And Fanny said, the prisoner's name
Had frighten'd all the country round,
And glad she was the bill was found:
She knew a man, who knew another,
Who knew the very party's brother
Who lost his heart by mere surprise,
One morning looking at her eyes;
And others had been known to squeak
Who only chanc'd to hear her speak;
For she had words of such a sort
That, though she knew no reason for't,
Would make a man of sense run mad,
And rifle him of all he had;
And that she'd rob the whole community
If ever she had opportunity.
The prisoner now first silence broke,
And curtsied round her, as she spoke:
She own'd, she said, it much incens'd her,
To hear such matters sworn against her;
But that she hop'd to keep her temper,
And prove herself eadem semper:
That what the prosecutor swore
Was some part true and some part more:
She own'd she had been often seen with him;
And laugh'd and chatter'd on the green with him;
The fellow seem'd to have humanity,
And told her tales that sooth'd her vanity,
Pretending that he lov'd her vastly,
And that all women else look'd ghastly:
But then she hop'd the court would think
She never was inclin'd to drink,
Or suffer hands like his to daub her, or
Encourage men to kiss and slobber her:
She'd have folks know she did not love it,
Or if she did, she was above it:
But this, she said, was sworn of course,
To prove her giddy, and then worse;
As she whose conduct was thought levis
Might very well be reckon'd thievish.
She hop'd, she said, the court's discerning
Would pay some honour to her learning,
For every day, from four to past six,
She went up stairs and read the classics.
Thus having clear'd herself of levity,
The rest, she said, would come with brevity
And first it injur'd not her honour
To own the heart was found upon her;
For she could prove, and did aver,
The paltry thing belong'd to her.
The fact was thus. This prince of knaves
Was once the humblest of her slaves,
And often had confess'd the dart
Her eyes had lodg'd within his heart:
That she, as 'twas her constant fashion,
Made great diversion of his passion,
Which set his blood in such a ferment
As seem'd to threaten his interment:
That then she was afraid of losing him,
And so desisted from abusing him;
And often came and felt his pulse,
And bid him write to Doctor Hulse.
The prosecutor thank'd her kindly,
And sigh'd, and said she look'd divinely;
But told her that his heart was bursting,
And doctors he had little trust in;
He therefore begg'd her to accept it,
And hop'd 'twould mend, if once she kept it:
That having no aversion to it,
She said, with all her soul she'd do it;
But then she begg'd him to remember,
If he should need it in December
(For winter months would make folks shiver
Who wanted either heart or liver)
It never could return; and added,
'Twas her's for life if once she had it.
The prosecutor said Amen,
And that he wish'd it not again;
And took it from his breast, and gave her,
And bow'd and thank'd her for the favour;
But begg'd the thing might not be spoke of,
As heartless men were made a joke of:
That next day whispering him about it,
And asking how he felt without it?
He sigh'd, and cried, 'Alack! alack!'
And begg'd and pray'd to have it back,
Or that she'd give him her's instead on't;
But she conceiv'd there was no need on't,
And said, and bid him make no pother,
He should have neither one nor t'other:
That then he rav'd and storm'd like fury,
And said that one was his de jure,
And, rather than he'd leave pursuing her,
He'd swear a robbery, and ruin her.
That this was truth she did aver,
Whatever hap betided her;
Only that Mrs. P. she said,
Miss Y. and her deluded maid,
And Lady Mary, and his Reverence,
Were folks to whom she paid some deference,
And that she verily believ'd
They were not perjur'd, but deceiv'd.
Then Doctor D. begg'd leave to speak,
And sigh'd as if his heart would break:
He said that he was Madam's surgeon,
Or rather, as in Greek, chirurgeon,
From chier, manus, ergon, opus,
(As scope is from the Latin scopus:)
That he, he said, had known the prisoner
From the first sun that ever rise on her,
And griev'd he was to see her there;
But took upon himself to swear,
There was not to be found in nature
A sweeter or a better creature;
And if the king (God bless him!) knew her,
He'd leave St. James's to get to her;
But then, as to the fact in question,
He knew no more on't than Hephæstion;
It might be false and might be true,
And this, he said, was all he knew.
The judge proceeded to the charge,
And gave the evidence at large,
But often cast a sheep's eye at her,
And strove to mitigate the matter;
Pretending facts were not so clear,
And mercy ought to interfere.
The jury then withdrew a moment,
As if on weighty points to comment,
And, right or wrong, resolv'd to save her,
They gave a verdict in her favour.
But why or wherefore things were so
It matters not for us to know.
The culprit, by escape grown bold,
Pilfers alike from young and old;
The country all around her teases,
And robs or murders whom she pleases.





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