Classic Poem

War! dreadful scourge of Man, appears,
To fill the virgin's eyes with tears,
For her dear youth, untimely slain;
To fill with grief the widow's breast,
Whose warlike husband's relics rest
Beneath the blood-polluted plain.

O! see, engag'd in conflict dire,
Involv'd in sulph'rous smoak and fire,
The hostile armies shake the ground;
The storm of Death, tremendous, pours
Swift balls, and the artill'ry roars,
Like awful Thunder's grating sound.

See yonder stately city storm'd,
There, the besieg'd, with fury warm'd,
Repel the foe, who scale the wall;
But they, with fierce, resistless pow'r,
Press onward, 'mid the leaden show'r,
Whilst eager soldiers, fighting, fall.

The city taken, frantic cries
From the unhappy victims rise,
Who sink beneath the piercing blade;
And violated virgins tear
Their tresses, and, in deep despair,
Deplore their chastity betray'd,

Lost is the sweet security,
The village sports, the rural glee,
That once the happy region bless'd;
The husbandman and shepherd, now,
Forsake their fleecy charge and plough,
And sanguine thoughts inflame each breast.

What desolation meets the eye—
The towns in frightful ruins lie,
Demolish'd by destructive War;
And o'er the landscape, now defac'd,
His horrid footsteps may be trac'd
To where he thunders from afar.