Ode to War

*Dread Offspring of Tartarian birth, * *Whose nodding crest is stain'd with gore, * *Whom to some giant-son of Earth, * *Strife in strong pangs of childbed bore; * *0 War! fierce monster, homicide, * *Who marchest on with hideous stride, * *Shaking thy spear distilling blood; * *Bellona thee, in angry mood, * *Taught proud Ambition's spoils to win, * *Amidst the loud, conflicting din * *Of arms, where Discord's gorgon-featured form * *High shakes her flaming torch amidst the martial storm. * *Stern God! wolf-hearted, and accursed, * *Foster'd by Power, by Rapine nursed, * *Oppression ever in thy train, * *For hapless man prepares her chain: * *A thousand vulture-forms beside * *Stalk on before thee; bloated Pride, * *Thick-eyed Revenge, his soul on fire, * *And Slaughter breathing threatenings dire, * *Tumult, and Rage, and Fury fell, * *And Cruelty, the imp of hell, * *Her heart of adamant! and arm'd her hand * *With iron hooks, and cords, and Desolation's brand. * *There, where the Battle loudest roars, * *Where wide the impurpled deluge pours, * *And ghastly Death, his thousands slain, * *Whirls his swift chariot o'er the plain, * *Rapt in wild Horror's frantic fit, * * 'Midst the dire scene thou lov'st to sit, * *To catch some wretch's parting sigh, * *To mark the dimly-glazing eye, * *The face into contortions thrown, * *Convuls'd: the deep, deep-lengthening groan, * *The frequent sob, the agonizing smart, * *And nature's dread release, the pang that rends the heart. * *Avaunt, from Albion's isle! not there * *Thy arms, and maddening car prepare, * *Nor bid thy crimson banners fly * *Terrific, through the troubled sky; * *But stay thee in thy wild career; * *Lay by thy glittering shield and spear, * *Thy polished casque, and nodding crest, * *And let thy sable steeds have rest: * *At length, the work of slaughter close, * *And give to Europe's sons repose, * *Bid the hoarse clangors of the trumpet cease, * *And smooth thy wrinkled front to meet the smiles of Peace. *