Black Beetles in Amber

O, justice, you have fled, to dwell

In Mexico, unstrangled,

Lest you should hang as high as—well,

As Haman dangled.

(I know not if his cord he twanged,

Or the King proved forgiving.

'Tis hard to think of Haman hanged,

And Haymond living.)

Yes, as I said: in mortal fear

To Mexico you journeyed;

For you were on your trial here,

And ill attorneyed.

The Law had long regarded you

As an extreme offender.

Religion looked upon you, too,

With thoughts untender.

The Press to you was cold as snow,

For sin you'd always call so.

In Politics you were de trop,

In Morals also.

All this is accurately true

And, faith! there might be more said;

But—well, to save your thrapple you

Fled, as aforesaid.

You're down in Mexico—that's plain

As that the sun is risen;

For Daniel Burns, down there, his chain

Drags round in prison.