STANZAS 



AGAINST 



WAR. 



rJLEAR ye yon Bell, its sullen sound that flings 

 In solemn cadence o'er the echoing vale ? — 



To every ear a gloomy thought it brings, 



Mirth laughs no more, e'en Valour's spirits fail — 



But hark! the knell is drown'd — tempestuous floats 

 On the swoln breeze the tumult of the war ; 



Shrill sound the cheering trumpet's martial notes, 

 And loud the battery thunders from afar: 



With kindling flame reviving Valour hears, 



Strong beats his breast ; while e'en the coward slave, 



Stung by the rousing peal, forgets his fears. 

 Pants for the field, and fancies he is brave. 



Oh say, why this, ye wise! — the death-bell shows 

 What Fate has done ; not urges Fate's decrees — 



Marks but one victim snatch'd from human woes, 

 Bent by chill age, perhaps, or pale disease. 



But shouting squadrons at the trumpet's breath 

 O'er mangled thousands urge their furious way; 



The thundering battery sweeps to instant death 

 Its slaughter'd myriads from the light of day. 



Not worn with pain, not struck by palsied age. 

 The ripen d harvest of the greedy tomb ; 



Timeless they fall i?i manhood's glowing prime, 



Health's vigorous hour, or youth's ingenuous bloom! 



Henry James Pye, 



POET LAUREATE. 



