Which, witness this nay garment—a tongue’s in ev’ry hole.
For the good of thee, my country, I die a true-blue Tory,
For Dulce et decorum, est pro patria mori!”
He said, and on the lawyers he turned a kindling eye,
As away on all sides slinking, no one dared make reply.
Then smiling sad but calmly, he cried “Good Charon, hark!
I’m too poor to pay the obolus for crossing in your bark,
But I know that you will trust me; so now, my friends, good bye,
I’ll trouble not the coroner, a natural death I die:
A natural death for Curtius, who might have been so rich,