 | Poems, by Joseph Cottle |  |
What countless pangs to such have owed their birth!
What blood and murder stain'd the smiling earth!
To grant these Tyrants unexplor'd domain,
How many a fruitful clime has desert lain!
To please these monsters in their lordly pride,
How many an eye hath wept, and bosom sigh'd!
Shepherds, unskill'd in war's infernal trade,
Torn from their cots to wield the murderer's blade;
Peasants, with hearts revolting at the sight,
Compell'd to sack the town, and dare the fight;
Till War's malignant deeds, and wizard spell,
Transform them, saints of light, to fiends of hell.
What blood and murder stain'd the smiling earth!
To grant these Tyrants unexplor'd domain,
How many a fruitful clime has desert lain!
To please these monsters in their lordly pride,
How many an eye hath wept, and bosom sigh'd!
Shepherds, unskill'd in war's infernal trade,
Torn from their cots to wield the murderer's blade;
Peasants, with hearts revolting at the sight,
Compell'd to sack the town, and dare the fight;
Till War's malignant deeds, and wizard spell,
Transform them, saints of light, to fiends of hell.
| Poems, by Joseph Cottle | |