“What said the jury?”—­they were long in doubt,
But sturdy Peter faced the matter out: 
So they dismissed him, saying at the time,
“Keep fast your hatchway when you’ve boys who climb.” 
This hit the conscience, and he colour’d more
Than for the closest questions put before. 
   Thus all his fears the verdict set aside,
And at the slave-shop Peter still applied. 
   Then came a boy, of manners soft and mild, —
Our seamen’s wives with grief beheld the child;
All thought (the poor themselves) that he was one
Of gentle blood, some noble sinner’s son,
Who had, belike, deceived some humble maid,
Whom he had first seduced and then betray’d:  —
However this, he seem’d a gracious lad,
In grief submissive, and with patience sad. 
   Passive he labour’d, till his slender frame
Bent with his loads, and he at length was lame: 
Strange that a frame so weak could bear so long
The grossest insult and the foulest wrong;
But there were causes—­in the town they gave
Fire, food, and comfort, to the gentle slave;
And though stern Peter, with a cruel hand,
And knotted rope, enforced the rude command,
Yet he consider’d what he’d lately felt,
And his vile blows with selfish pity dealt. 
   One day such draughts the cruel fisher made,
He could not vend them in his borough-trade,
But sail’d for London-mart:  the boy was ill,
But ever humbled to his master’s will;
And on the river, where they smoothly sail’d,
He strove with terror and awhile prevail’d;
But new to danger on the angry sea,
He clung affrighten’d to his master’s knee: 
The boat grew leaky and the wind was strong,
Rough was the passage and the time was long;
His liquor fail’d, and Peter’s wrath arose, —
No more is known—­the rest we must suppose,
Or learn of Peter:  —­Peter says, he “spied
The stripling’s danger and for harbour tried;
Meantime the fish, and then th’ apprentice died.” 
   The pitying women raised a clamour round,
And weeping said, “Thou hast thy ’prentice drown’d.” 
   Now the stern man was summon’d to the hall,
To tell his tale before the burghers all: 
He gave th’ account; profess’d the lad he loved,
And kept his brazen features all unmoved. 
   The mayor himself with tone severe replied, —
“Henceforth with thee shall never boy abide;
Hire thee a freeman, whom thou durst not beat,
But who, in thy despite, will sleep and eat: 
Free thou art now!—­again shouldst thou appear,
Thou’lt find thy sentence, like thy soul, severe.” 
   Alas! for Peter not a helping hand,
So was he hated, could he now command;
Alone he row’d his boat, alone he cast
His nets beside, or made his anchor fast: 
To hold a rope or hear a curse was none, —
He toil’d and rail’d; he groan’d and swore alone. 
   Thus by himself compell’d to live each day,
To wait for certain hours the tide’s delay;