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Coventry Patmore - A London Fête
Work rating: Medium

All night fell hammers, shock on shock;
              With echoes Newgate`s granite clang`d:
              The scaffold built, at eight o`clock
              They brought the man out to be hang`d.
              Then came from all the people there
              A single cry, that shook the air;
              Mothers held up their babes to see,
              Who spread their hands, and crow`d for glee;
              Here a girl from her vesture tore
               A rag to wave with, and join`d the roar;
               There a man, with yelling tired,     
               Stopp`d, and the culprit`s crime inquired;
               A sot, below the doom`d man dumb,
               Bawl`d his health in the world to come;
               These blasphemed and fought for places;
               Those, half-crush`d, cast frantic faces,
               To windows, where, in freedom sweet,
               Others enjoy`d the wicked treat.
               At last, the show`s black crisis pended;
               Struggles for better standings ended;
               The rabble`s lips no longer curst,
               But stood agape with horrid thirst;
               Thousands of breasts beat horrid hope;
               Thousands of eyeballs, lit with hell,
               Burnt one way all, to see the rope
               Unslacken as the platform fell.
               The rope flew tight; and then the roar
               Burst forth afresh; less loud, but more
               Confused and affrighting than before.
               A few harsh tongues for ever led
               The common din, the chaos of noises,
               But ear could not catch what they said.
               As when the realm of the damn`d rejoices
               At winning a soul to its will,
               That clatter and clangour of hateful voices
               Sicken`d and stunn`d the air, until
               The dangling corpse hung straight and still.
               The show complete, the pleasure past,
               The solid masses loosen`d fast:
               A thief slunk off, with ample spoil,
               To ply elsewhere his daily toil;
               A baby strung its doll to a stick;
               A mother praised the pretty trick;
               Two children caught and hang`d a cat;
               Two friends walk`d on, in lively chat;
               And two, who had disputed places,
               Went forth to fight, with murderous faces.
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