Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

   And whomsoe’er along the path you meet
   Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue,
   Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet: 
   Woe to the man that walks in public view
   Without of loyalty this token true: 
   Sharp is the knife, and sudden is the stroke;
   And sorely would the Gallic foemen rue,
   If subtle poniards, wrapt beneath the cloak,
Could blunt the sabre’s edge, or clear the cannon’s smoke.