University of Virginia Library

If such the ills of war, by Heaven abhorr'd!
What are your crimes, ye Guardians of the sword,
At whose decision countless scabbards fly,
And murders fill the earth, and groans the sky?
What are your crimes, if, sway'd by wealth or power,
Ye loose your “war-dogs” in ambition's hour?
Contented view your subjects bleed and groan,
To add some bauble to a burthen'd throne?
Or, that when Death ten thousand eyes has chain'd,
Courtiers may shout some glorious—feather gain'd?
Sins so stupendous, here but seldom find,
That signal wrath of heaven which waits behind;
Too foul such terpitude for mortal woe!
Too huge such crimes for cognizance below!

Are they more innocent, with plenty crown'd,
Who at the head of slaughtering hords are found?
Whom stern necessity's remorseless hand
Forc'd not to join the desolating band?
Who, seiz'd by Luxury's fever of the brain,
Brandish the spear, and dangers brave, to gain
A prize they well might spare, and which, possest,
Leaves but a sting that rankles in their breast.
If these from choice the savage path pursue,
And in in the blood of Man their spears embrue;
Though Justice spare their lives, and Fame declare
In many a hard campaign their valiant share,
With war's black authors be their deeds abhorr'd,
And equal dooms their equal crimes reward.

Yet, if invaded rights the task demand,
If men behold opprest their native land,
By foreign despots wandering far for prey,
Who, lucusts like, with ruin mark their way:
Or, if a factious band their schemes pursue,
To God rebellious, and to Man untrue;
Who curse all crimes but those themselves have done,
And wish to act the Tyrant's part, alone;
Triumphant stride o'er vanquish'd order's grave,
And laugh to hear confusion's whirlwind rave:
Or if a Monarch guide the public helm,
In ruin's surge a nation to o'erwhelm;
Reward for foulest deeds a venal tribe,
Nor shun to blacken whom he cannot bribe;
On power despotic rear a rush-built throne,
And, crown'd for all, live to himself alone;
Bid Justice stoop to servile Interest's awe;
His look a mandate, and his word a law.
'Twill then be right to grasp the blazing spear,
Be duty then the banner'd staff to rear;
To dare the fight at Freedom's sacred call,
And, if by Heav'n decreed, exulting fall.
But, if embark'd to urge oppression's claim,
For love of vengeance, or for thirst of fame
Men heed the trumpet's bray, the clarion's call,
Rush on to battle, and untimely fall;
Fall, whilst extending War's tartarean brand!
Fall, with the Murderer's dagger in their hand!
—Compassion draws a veil, and leaves their wrongs
With Heav'n, to whom decision's right belongs.