ON THE 



HAPPY RETURN 





OF 



PEACE. 



• 



Curst be Ambition! to its lures we owe 

 The greatest ills that mortals bear below; 

 Curst by the maid torn from her lover's side, 

 By the pale widow curst, too short a bride; 

 By mothers curst, when floods of tears they shed, 

 And scatter useless ROSES on the dead. 

 Curst by the hind, when to the spoils he yields 

 His year's whole sweat, and vainly ripen'd fields. 

 E'en by the christian curst, whose mind can glow, 



And kindly feel for universal woe. 



But hark ! I hear more friendly shouts resound, 



And social clarions mix their sprightly sound ; 



Sweet-smiling PEACE descends from heav'n above, 



Creating joy, with harmony, and love. 



The British flags are furl'd, the troops disband, 



And scatter'd armies seek their native land; 



The raptur'd mother hails her son's return; 



The love-worn maiden ceases now to mourn, 



And in ecstatic trance the lovers burn ; 



The soft'ning arts now rear their drooping head; 



No longer grieves the country for its dead; 



The hind in comfort tills his native soil, 



And the glad earth repays his active toil; 



Now flocks ascend the breach without a wound, 



Or crop the bastion, turn'd to fruitful ground, 



While shepherds sleep, along the rampart laid, 



Or pipe beneath the formidable shade. — 



The alter'd scene now sooths my soul to rest, 



And wears each dreadful image from the breast. 



* Alluding to the Peace made by the illustrious Addington, which, it is hoped, will prove permanent, for the happiness 

 of present and future generations. 



