STANZAS 



AGAINST 



WAR. 



I 



Hear 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 slaughters 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 in manhood's glowing prime, 



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



Henry James Pye, 



POET LAUREATE. 



