smell
The lower world! Graham, farewell,
Man of the silken moon!

XXXVI.

The earth is close! the City nears--
Like a burnt paper it appears,
Studded with tiny sparks!
Methinks I hear the distant rout
Of coaches rumbling all about--
We're close above the Parks!

XXXVII.

I hear the watchmen on their beats,
Hawking the hour about the streets.
Lord! what a cruel jar
It is upon the earth to light!
Well--there's the finish of our flight!
I've smoked my last segar!

A _FRIENDLY_ ADDRESS TO MRS. FRY _IN_ NEWGATE.[21]

"Sermons in stones."--_As You Like It._
"Out! out! damned spot!"--_Macbeth._

[Footnote 21: Elizabeth Fry had set up her school for the children in
Newgate as early as 1817. Moll Brazen, Suky Tawdry, Jenny Diver, and
the rest, are names borrowed from Gay's _Beggars' Opera_.]

I.

I like you, Mrs. Fry! I like your name!
It speaks the very warmth you feel in pressing
In daily act round Charity's great flame--
I like the crisp Browne way you have of dressing,
Good Mrs. Fry! I like the placid claim
You make to Christianity,--professing
Love, and good _works_--of course you buy of Barton,
Beside the young _Fry's_ bookseller, Friend Darton!

II.

I like, good Mrs. Fry, your brethren mute--
Those serious, solemn gentlemen that sport--
I should have said, that _wear_, the sober suit
Shap'd like a court dress--but for heaven's court.
I like your sisters too,--sweet Rachel's fruit--
Protestant nuns! I like their stiff support
Of virtue--and I like to see them clad
With such a difference--just like good from bad!

III.

I like the sober colors--not the wet;
Those gaudy manufactures of the rainbow--
Green, orange, crimson, purple, violet--
In which the fair, the flirting, and the vain, go--
The others are a chaste, severer set,
In which the good, the pious, and the plain, go--
They're moral _standards_, to know Christians by--
In short, they are your _colors_, Mrs. Fry!

IV.

As for the naughty tinges of the prism--
Crimson's the cruel uniform of war--
Blue--hue of brimstone! minds no catechism;
And green is young and gay--not noted for
Goodness, or gravity, or quietism,
Till it is sadden'd down to tea-green, or
Olive--and purple's giv'n to wine, I guess;
And yellow is a convict by its dress!

V.

They're all the devil's liveries, that men
And women wear in servitude to sin--
But how will they come off, poor motleys, when
Sin's wages are paid down,