War and Peace

Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded That all the Apostles would have done as they did.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Mark! where his carnage and his conquests cease! He makes a solitude, and calls it—peace!

Millions of tongues record thee, and anew Their children’s lips shall echo them, and say— “Here, where the sword united nations drew, Our countrymen were warring on that day!” And this is much, and all which will not pass away. 4

War, war is still the cry, “War even to the knife!” 3

The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death you’ll find him. His father’s sword he has girded on, And his wild harp slung behind him.

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances! 1

Soldier, rest! thy warfare o’er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking.

In peace, Love tunes the shepherd’s reed; In war, he mounts the warrior’s steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love.

Toll for the brave— The brave! that are no more; All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore!

But war’s a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.

Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darken’d air.

One to destroy, is murder by the law; And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe; To murder thousands takes a specious name, War’s glorious art, and gives immortal fame.

From hence, let fierce contending nations know What dire effects from civil discord flow.

My voice is still for war. Gods! can a Roman senate long debate Which of the two to choose, slavery or death?

Hobbes clearly proves that every creature Lives in a state of war by nature.

And, like another Helen, fir’d another Troy.

The trumpet’s loud clangor Excites us to arms.

The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty, For want of fighting was grown rusty, And ate into itself, for lack Of somebody to hew and hack.

And prove their doctrine orthodox, By apostolic blows and knocks.

Such as do build their faith upon The holy text of pike and gun.

For now I see Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste.