The Martyring of a Murderer

Overshadowed

By the madness

Of Salem's ruthless infamy.

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'Twas the culprit

Then acquitted

The same who first accused his wife.

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Having beaten

A man for the

Theft of fruit from his brother's farm.   

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One hundred times

The stick did swing

Bludgeoning the indentured "scourge."

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Providence shown

On Robert's son,

Elisha beheld the horror.

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Exhorting this

Janus to stop,

Or suffer thy deserving blood.

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Though the beating 

Stopped, the damaged 

Victim untreated, died in vain.

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Lo, the jury, 

Bound to the law 

Of the time, made no conviction.

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As the killer

Was a master,

Another Bacon need be quashed.  

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We all know the

Tale wherein he 

Became a folk hero: "more weight!"

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Howbeit, this 

Same martyr 

Did nothing to save his own wife.

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Choosing instead

His property,

No more bitter a truth could be.

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Refusing to plea

He earned his peine 

Forte et dure, and justice arrived.

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One wonders if

He saw the "scourge"

As the breath was wrung from his chest.

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Such icons paint

Our history,

Clasping bloody hands behind them.

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And though seen in  

A light of hope

And awe, they deserve not one spark.