1 π1r

The
Ghost
of
John Young

The Homicide

Who was Executed the 1796-08-1717th of Auguſt laſt,
For the Murder of
Robert Barwick, a Sherif’s Officer.

The following Monody is written with a
View of reſcuing his Memory from Obloquy,
and ſhewing how inconſiſtent ſanguinary Laws
are, in a Country which boaſts of her Freedom
and Happineſ.

By Mrs. Faugeres.

[Price Six Pence.]

2 π1v

The Ghoſt of John Young, &c.

The glooms of Night had veil’d days gaudy beam,

The ſlumbering winds in whiſpers breath’d no more,

An old Haſpedoc The Eaſt River. pour’d his ample ſtream,

In ſullen murmurs by ſad Naſſau’s Long-Iſland was formerly known by that Name. ſhore.

When as I roam’d in Melancholy mood,

Where new broke earth compoſ’d a little mound,

Lo! bending o’er a weeping Spectre ſtood,

And from his boſom pour’d a plaining ſound.

Alas, he cried, within this narrow place,

How ſleeps obſcure the remnant of my frame;

How marr’d how mangled ere it fill’d this ſpace

Ah, how purſued by Obloquy and Blame:

Thou whom the ſons of Men call Juſtice here, Wherefore ſhould Cruelty thus ſway thy Laws, Why ſhould’ſt thou ope to Perjury VideMr. Young’s Narrative. thine ear, And ſhut thine eyes upon a Strangers cauſe 3 π2r 3 I, yes I, made a Fellow Mortal bleed, With all his powers and faculties awake; But in a Frantic hour I did the deed, And took the Life which God alone ſhould take Yes, I a Murderer was by rage propell’d. And I have heard the laſt the harſh decree, But, if the Maniac is a Murderer held, Say cool deliberate actors, what are ye? What title beſt will with your temper chime, Who can paſs ſentence with a tearleſs eye, Who break the ancient ſacred laws of Time, And bid the Young the vigorous mortal, die. Whoſe ſteady hands weigh out the ſet reward The Fees of the High-Sheriff or Hangman. For him who ſhall extinguiſh Life ſo dear, Who ſend the ſoul perhaps all unprepar’d, The Judgement of the eternal Bar to hear. But time we gave to make thy peace with God, How did ye know the texture of my mind? How know how ſoon my ſoul would kiſs the Rod? Or to Fates awful Mandate be reſigned. 4 π2v 4 And Oh, it is a Callous Heart indeed, That to the fainting criminal denies, One ſmall reſtorative It is ſaid, that the Priſoner after Standing four Hours at his trial, was refuſed one Glaſs of Wine. when pale fatigue, Stops his weak breath and dims his heavy eyes But Pity whither hadſt thou fled to mourn, When the firm Tongue my ſad decree which gave, Bade me (though once diſmiſt) again return, To tell me that I was denied a Grave. The Judge after having pronounced ſentence of Death upon Mr. Young and diſmiſſed him, recalled him to inform him that his Body was to be delivered over to the Surgeons for diſſection,. Ah, hadſt thou lingered ſtill within thoſe Walls, My Boſom had not known the anguiſh riſe, Cauſ’d by the ſounds On thee, the ſentence falls To be diſmembered by the Greedy Knife. No greiving Friend it (ſternly ſeemed to ſay,) Shall mark thy Tomb and whiſper here he lies, 5 π3r 5 No tear It was reported the Free-Maſons were to have had his Body decently inter’d. fraternal ſhall bedew the clay, That hides thy mangled Corſe from human eyes, But in ſome Pit obſcure thy Fleſh annoy’d Shapeleſs and bare shall mingle with the ground And when corruption hath that Fleſh deſtroy’d Where will a Veſtige Perhaps in ſome Surgeon’s Poſſeſſion. of thy Frame be found. Shame on the Country where ſuch laws prevail, Savage as thoſe of rude and barbarous lands, Where Power from Juſtice wreſts the trembling ſcale, And cooly dips in human gore his hands. Say why does Law condemn the wretch to death, Who urg’d by Fury hath his fellow ſlain? Could taking mine reſtore anothers breath? Or cauſe his clay cold breaſt to glow again? Was I thus puniſh’d to avenge the Dead? Or was it that the living might be taught To look upon the Murderer’s doom with dread? And ſhun the path with ſuch affliction fraught. 6 π3v 6 If ſo, why might not the Offender be Within ſome Priſon’s lonely walls immur’d, Shut from the bleſſings of Society, And to the bonds of uſeful toil innur’d, Cut off from every earthly hope, the Soul, No worldly wiſh would dare to ſtretch abroad But as its mournfnul years in ſilence roll, Would ſeek a reconcilement with its God. Thus would thy Hands, O Law be free from ſtain, And thus would the Inhabitant of Time, When he who gave ſhould call the Soul again, Return it back unſullied with a Crime.

Finis.