ON THE WAR

The cause that rests on reason's ground,

Shall potent through the world be found,

Mankind must yield to that decree

Which humbles pride and tyranny.

O'er this wide globe what darkness broods,

What misery, murder, wars and feuds!—

Does man deserve the solar light

While he performs the deeds of night?

When to the gates of modern Rome

We see the gallic legions come,

Their triumphs should, in honor, be

To make them men, and make them free.

In these new wars new views we trace,

Not fetters for the human race,

And, France, where'er you dart your rays

Old superstition's reign decays.

But look again!— what myriads join

The vast reform to undermine!

What labor, bribes, and deep-laid schemes

To quench the sun, and reason's beams!

Shall these succeed? and will that sun

Continue, still, his race to run

O'er scenes that he must blush to see

Disorder, chains, and tyranny?

Must systems, still, of monstrous birth,

Enslave mankind, deform this earth?

No!— to the question answers fate,

These efforts come an age too late.

In such a system to combine,

Columbia, can the wish be thine!

Could such a thought assail your heart,

To take that base, ungrateful part.

From Britain's yoke so lately freed

Would she her hosts, her legions lead

To crush that power, which jointly gain'd

And once her sinking cause sustain'd?

From all true hearts be banish'd far

The thought of so profane a war —

A curse would on her arms attend

And all her well-earn'd honors end.

Fortune no more your toils would crown,

Your flag would fall before her frown;

No gallant men the foe would dare,

No Greenes no Washingtons appear;

No chiefs, that check'd the pride of kings

On Monmouth's plains — at Eutaw springs;

But blundering hordes, not brave or warm,

With broken heart, and nerveless arm,

Would sail, to attack your gallic foe,

Would strive in vain a cause t'o' erthrow

Which, sink or not, will live in fame,

While Europe can one patriot claim.