Classic Poem

WHILE Nations die
By mutual Wounds,
And Terror and Destruction walk their Rounds;
While wide-extended Countries lie
Swimming in Seas of human Gore;
And Death's horrendous Engines roar,
And Horror glares in every Eye;
Descend sweet PEACE! thy Balm prepare,
And heal the bleeding Wounds of War.

Gentle PEACE! with mildest Rays,
Shine on the happy, happy Days,
When GEORGE, the WELL-BELOW'D and GREAT ,
With Honor fills the Royal Seat,
And over half the Globe from thence,
Sheds his propitious Influence.
H APPY, HAPPY Days , when BOONE
Reflects the Splendors of the Throne,
On distant Lands, beneath the setting Sun.

H APPY, HAPPY, HAPPY Days ,
When WOLFE victorious for his Country bleeds—
(E TERNAL FAME! PROCLAIM HIS P RAISE ,
A ND SOUND HIS MIGHTY D EEDS !)
When led by AMHERST, circumspect and brave,
BRITAIN's intrepid Sons advance,
O'er rugged Mountains, Desarts wide,
And Wastes by human Foot untry'd,
To chace the trembling Fugitives of France,
Or crow'd them in a hasty Grave.

G ENTLE PEACE! WITH MILDEST R AYS ,
S HINE ON THESE HAPPY, HAPPY Days ,
H APPY, HAPPY, HAPPY Days ,
Which with BRITAIN's Glory blaze.
D ESCEND SWEET PEACE! THY B ALM PREPARE ;
A ND HEAL THE BLEEDING W OUNDS OF W AR .