University of Virginia Library

War—war of any kind,
But chiefly civil war—however wag'd,
Though, by a conduct ne'er so much refin'd,
It's mis'ries be assuag'd,
Strikes too much terror to the social mind,
And on the human race
Reflects too much disgrace,
To need, its horrors to increase,
Such cruel, shameful practices as these.
Thou doubtless didst expect great matters thence,
Yet never couldst thy fav'rite purpose gain;
And, spite of all thy confidence,
Hast long been at a vast expence
Of honour and humanity in vain,
Then make a solemn pause—
By all these violations of the laws
Of truth and nature in thy wicked cause,
Say, George, what hast thou done?—
Thou hast display'd a character in view,
As to the eye of the meridian sun,
Equall'd in gross deformity by few,
And over-match'd by none;
A character which tell-tale fame
Has close connected with thy name,
To propagate thro' the whole world thy shame;
A character replete with crimes,
Which, in succeeding times,
With infamy indelible shall stain
The foul disgustful annals of thy reign.
O George, thou MONSTER! how transform'd thou art!
Thou didst at first act so sublime a part,—
In thee there seem'd such saintly signs of grace,
Such mildness, such integrity of heart,
Humility and goodness, that thy face
Shone like a SERAPH'S when thy reign began;
But, if a seraph, from thy furrow'd brow,
Deep mark'd with guilt, thou canst not disavow,
'Tis plain thou art a fallen angel now:
Not in a serpent's, but the shape of man.