Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FORLORN ONE, by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE FORLORN ONE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Ah! Why those piteous sounds of woe
Last Line: And this here warment's prigg'd your wipe.'
Alternate Author Name(s): Ingoldsby, Thomas
Subject(s): Mercy


AH! why those piteous sounds of woe,
Lone wanderer of the dreary night?
Thy gushing tears in torrents flow,
Thy bosom pants in wild affright!

And thou, within whose iron breast
Those frowns austere too truly tell,
Mild pity, heaven-descended guest,
Hath never, never deign'd to dwell.

'That rude, uncivil touch forgo,'
Stern despot of a fleeting hour!
Nor 'make the angels weep' to know
The fond 'fantastic tricks' of power!

Know'st thou not 'mercy is not strain'd,
But droppeth as the gentle dew,'
And while it blesseth him who gain'd,
It blesseth him who gave it, too?

Say, what thou art? and what is he,
Pale victim of despair and pain,
Whose streaming eyes and bended knee
Sue to thee thus -- and sue in vain?

Cold callous man! -- he scorns to yield,
Or aught relax his felon gripe,
But answers, 'I'm Inspector Field!
And this here warment's prigg'd your wipe.'





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