"Alas, the country! How shall tongue or pen
Bewail her now, _un_country gentlemen!
The last to bid the cry of warfare cease,
The first to make a malady of peace!
For what were all these country patriots born?
To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn.
But corn, like ev'ry mortal thing, must fall:
Kings, conquerors, and, _markets most of all_."