Ode to Peace

HAIL-Born of Heav'n! thou Source of social Store, Britannia hails thee to her Sea-girt Shore, With laurel'd Wreaths and Conquest crown'd; Her Rights regain'd by Vict'ry's valiant Band, She bows obedient to thine Olive Wand, And courts firm Concord all around.

Fan'd by Ambition Gallia's tow'ring Pride, Sought o'er her envicd Empire to preside, And with despotic Rigour reign; On Indian Plains the wide-waved Banner rear'd Of hostile Discord, and in Arms appear'd To discompose thy mild Domain.

But awful Justice, Heav'n's Vice-gerent, weigh'd. The faithless Insult, and her Sword display'd, As th' impartial Balance hung: Forc'd collcagu'd Monarchs, drench'd in Sorrow's Brine, To cringe as Suppliants at thy sacred Shrine, And Slaughter's Blood-stain'd Bow unstrung.

Then hence dire War! to savage Shores retreat, Where Tyranny supports the Tartar's Seat, Or Slav'ry clanks her Ott'man Chain: Henceforth no more thy firm-embattled Bands, Shall stain with Crimson Gore Europa's Lands. But lasting Peace irruptur'd reign.