This principle is old, but true as fate,
Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate.

This principle is old, but true as fate,
Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate.

Rebellion must be managed with many swords; treason to his
prince's person may be with one knife.

Rebellion must be managed with many swords; treason to his
prince's person may be with one knife.

A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at read more

A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself. For the traitor appears not a traitor; he speaks in accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their arguments, he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murderer is less to fear. The traitor is the plague.

The man who pauses on the paths of treason,
Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.

The man who pauses on the paths of treason,
Halts on a quicksand, the first step engulfs him.

Though those that are betrayed
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case read more

Though those that are betrayed
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.

O that a soldier so glorious, ever victorious in fight,
Passed from a daylight of honor into the terrible read more

O that a soldier so glorious, ever victorious in fight,
Passed from a daylight of honor into the terrible night;
Fell as the mighty archangel, ere the earth glowed in space,
fell--
Fell from the patriot's heaven down to the loyalist's hell!

Is there not some chosen curse, some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven, red with uncommon wrath, to blast read more

Is there not some chosen curse, some hidden thunder in the stores of heaven, red with uncommon wrath, to blast the man who owes his greatness to his country's ruin!

Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath.

Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath.

Thou art a traitor.
Off with his head! Now by Saint Paul I swear
I will not read more

Thou art a traitor.
Off with his head! Now by Saint Paul I swear
I will not dine until I see the same.