Ballad—in Great News

Say soldier which of glory's charms, That heroes' souls enflame, Gives brightest lustre to their arms, Or best ensures their fame? Is it her lion-mettled rage, Let loose from ardour's den, Legion with legion to engage, And make men slaughter men? Is it to a defenceless foe, Mild mercy to forbear, And glut the call of vengeance! No; The brave delight to spare: 'Tis clemency pale misery's friend, Foremost in glory's van, To dry the starting tear, and blend The hero with the man.

Then on the wretch fall double shame, Who, in foul slander lored, Knows war alone by murder's name, The soldier by the sword: As blessings out of evils come, Let once the conflict cease, The eagle brings the halcyon home, War courts the smiles of peace: Yet, he to higher merit vaults, Who glory's track hath trod, Great, generous merit that exalts, A mortal to a God: 'Tis clemency, pale misery's friend, Ever in glory's van, To dry the starting tear, and blend The hero with the man.