A THICK-TWISTED brake, in the time of a storm,
Seem'd kindly to cover a sheep:
So snug, for awhile, he lay shelter'd and warm,
It quietly sooth'd him asleep.

The clouds are now scatter'd—the winds are at peace;
The sheep to his pasture inclin'd:
But ah! the fell thicket lays hold of his fleece,
His coat is left forfeit behind.

My friend! who the thicket of law never try'd,
Consider before you get in;
Though judgment and sentence are pass'd on your side,
By Jove, you'll be fleec'd to the skin.