Page:Poems - Lewis (1812).djvu/112

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POEMS.
—"Where shall I turn," the wretch exclaims; "where lay my shameful head?How fly from scorn, or how contrive to earn an honest bread?This branded hand would gladly toil; but when for work I pray,Who sees this mark—"A Felon!" cries, and loathing turns away.
"My heart has greatly erred, but now would fain revert to good;My hand has deeply sinned, but yet has ne'er been stained with blood;For work or alms in vain I sue; the scorners both deny:I starve! I starve! then what remains? this choice: To sin, or die.
"Here, Virtue spurns me with disdain; there, Pleasure spreads her snare;Strong Habit drags me back to vice; and urged by fierce Despair,I strive, while Hunger gnaws my heart, to fly from shame in vain:World, 'tis thy cruel will! I yield, and plunge in guilt again.
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