At Cyder Cellars turn night into day,
This they call “Killing time,” until they learn
Old Time may, perhaps the compliment return.
Then come the Soldiers and the Volunteers—
In other words the prime of life appears—
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, zealous when on guard;
Seeking without the least intimidation,
What Shakespeare calls “the bubble reputation.”
’Tis strange they are not bored with so much drilling,