Classic Poem

Already has the angry god
Such havock spread around;
That turrets from their bases nod,
And carnage strews the ground:

Th' affrighted people have in view,
With terrour and dismay,
The horrours of Bartholemew,
And bloody Guise's sway:

When reason toppl'd from her seat,
To give ambition rise;
Nor found the vestals a retreat,
In innocence and cries.

We've seen the purple Seine recede,
Swell'd high with human blood,
Whilst mangl'd limbs its course impede
Where once fourth Harry stood.

The sable flood, in Heaven's spite,
Forsook its wonted bound,
And vengeful sweeping to the right,
O'er-leap'd the other mound.

With horrour will historic page
Relate these bloody times;
The scanty remnant of the age
Will curse their fathers crimes.

What pow'r invoke in such distress
To ward th' impending stroke?
Or how offended Heaven address
To break rebellion's yoke?

May He who decks the spangl'd skies
His suppliant sons assist,
That science here once more may rise
Thro' faction's cloudy mist.

And bid connubial pleasures bloom,
With all their smiling train,
Enough has war's destructive gloom
Frown'd dreadful o'er the plain.

Restore to us our royal heir,
From captive chains set free,
To govern with paternal care,
And punish perfidy:

Permit him long to rule the land
In plenty joy and peace;
Nor for th' offences of a band
Condemn all Gallia's race:
Here long triumphant may he reign,
As parent and as prince;
Seditious jacobins restrain,
And equity dispense.