When he himself these evils might avoid
By perjury? Who would detectives bear—
To look about before he opes his mouth,
But that the dread of bayonets and chains—
The provost-marshal, from whose iron grip
No victim e’er escapes, puzzles the will,
And makes us swallow every oath that comes,
Than fly to evils that we dread still more?
Thus, love of ease makes patriots of us all!
And thus our sympathies are sicklied o’er