O War, What art thou?
After the brightest conquest, what remains
Of all thy glories? For the vanquish'd - chains -
If heaven has into being deign'd to call
Thy light, O Liberty! to shine on all;
Bright intellectual Sun! why does thy ray
Go, peaceful shade! exchange for sin and care
The glorious palm which patient suff'rers wear!
Go, take the meed victorious meekness gains,
'To rear the tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot,
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
Airy spirits, you who love
Cooling bower, or shady grove;
Streams that murmur as they flow,
Here bliss is short, imperfect, insincere,
But total, absolute, and perfect there.
Here time's a moment, short our happiest state,
O Charity, divinely wise,
Thou meek-ey'd Daughter of the skies
From the pure fountain of eternal light,
Where fair, immutable, and ever bright,
VESEY, of Verse the judge and friend,
Awhile my idle strain attend:
Not with the days of early Greece,
O my son!
The ostentatious virtues which still press
For notice and for praise; the brilliant deeds
Which live but in the eye of observation -
Florio, a youth of gay renown,
Who figured much about the town,
Had pass'd, with general approbation,