Ode To Peace

THOU, whose mild radiance all adore,
O let not human-kind deplore
The loss of thy propitious smile:
Why, Goddess, in such wild affright,
Wilt thou from Europe take thy flight?
O stay, to bless Britannia's favour'd isle!
Lo! where, in vengeful steel array'd,
His bloody banners wide display'd,
Fierce War, with angry aspect, stands:
O! loveliest of the heav'n-born train!
Shall he thy spotless vesture stain,
Or tear the olive from thy sacred hands?
No! thou shalt safely here abide,
Thy offspring, Plenty, by thy side,
Profuse her blessings shall bestow;
At whose approach gaunt Famine flies,
And ev'ry fear-rais'd phantom dies,
And black Despair shall veil his with'ring brow.
Her oaken bulwarks Britain boasts,
To guard her sea-environ'd coasts,
Her sons in Honor's robes appear,
And thine and Freedom's reign support;
Nor Gallia's treach'rous smiles shall court,
Nor proud Iberia's daring insults fear.
Yet, when provok'd by just alarms,
The dauntless heroes rush to arms,
They quick return with conquest crown'd;
Enamour'd of thy form benign,
Shall cast their laurels at thy shrine,
While Friendship, Health, and Pleasure smile around.