Thomas Chatterton (1752–1770)

FAREWELL, Bristolia’s dingy piles of brick,

Lovers of mammon, worshippers of trick!

Ye spurned the boy who gave you antique lays,

And paid for learning with your empty praise.

Farewell, ye guzzling aldermanic fools,

By nature fitted for curruption’s tools!

I go to where celestial anthems swell;

But you, when you depart, will sink to hell.

Farewell, my mother!—cease, my anguished soul,

Nor let distraction’s billows o’er me roll!

Have mercy, Heaven! when here I cease to live,

And this last act of wretchedness forgive.