War

by John Spateman

All now prepar'd for gen'ral fierce Assault,
Dreadful approaches the blood-thirsty Foe.
By Penthouse cover'd, some, with Hammers large,
And massy Bars, their Gates attempt to break,
In vain: Some shake the bounding Wall with Beams
Of mighty Force and Weight, in hopes to cause
A Breach, while these at the Foundation try:
Others the crouded Battlements approach
In wooden, tott'ring Tow'rs, of equal Height,
Hoping by Bridges laid to pass from thence
To the near hostile Wall. These Ladders fix,
And, cover'd with their Shields; to Death devote;
With desp'rate Valour mount; and with their Hands
Seize on the Summits; maugre all th' Efforts
Of the Defendants to prevent, repel,
And back precipitate with huge Stones, and Beams,
Torrents of boiling Pitch, and molten Lead,
Darts, Arrows, Spears, and Swords. What dismal Work!
Horror stands horror-struck; Fiend Mars exults;
Yet wonders at his Sons!—And what the Prize
Of all this desp'rate Intrepidity?
Immortal Life?—It cannot be on Earth.
The Glories, and Felicity of Heav'n?
That would indeed be worth all they could risk,
Or suffer: But, alas! Hell's only like
To be the Meed of such most hellish Hate,
Such dev'lish Cruelty, and Thirst of Blood.
Ill would such Creatures suit with Heav'n; the Seat
Of Peace, and Love perpetual: Such as they
Would soon convert its Glories to a Hell.
For hard'ned Clay, Dominion, Fame; for these
Without which Man may be as blest; they this
Endure; and hazard horrid Wounds, and Death,
Yea, Hell, if Hell there be; a Fable deem'd!

The Wall is gain'd: They conquer: Now they mount
With eager Joy and Haste, no more restrain'd:
Now all is Slaughter, all infuriate Rage,
That neither sees, nor hears: The Sword devours
All in its Way; and spares nor Sex, nor Age.
The hoary Head, and little Infant, lie
Welt'ring in Blood; by whom the Mother bleeds,
Glad to die with it; wounded most in that.
If the fair Virgin 'scapes, she 'scapes for worse;
And shrieking begs for Death: In ev'ry Place,
Horror, Confusion, Cries, and Bloodshed reign:
Horrid Effects of wicked, wicked WAR!
The Carnage ended, and their Fury tir'd;
Their Heart reproves them not; they call themselves
Still Men; nor are asham'd to look at Heav'n.

The few that 'scape the Sword's devouring Rage;
More wretched still, for worse reserv'd, are doom'd
To drudge in servile Works; rememb'ring oft,
With daily Sighs and Tears, their former Wealth;
Held vile as Beasts, and like them fed and us'd.

Ev'n on the Town, the Victors wreak their Rage,
And burn its Gates and Palaces with Fire:
Now a vast Heap of Ruins: In its Rooms,
Once ceil'd with Cedar, soon wild Beasts will couch;
And Owls and Bitterns in its Windows roost.

Such were Mankind, from old primeval Time:
Giants, for Prowess fam'd, and mighty Deeds;
Whose Names and Fame have perish'd with themselves:
Indulgent Heav'n to these a longer Space
Allow'd; they might have Life enjoy'd in Peace
For Centuries, to near a thousand Years:
Yet chose in sanguinary Love of War,
To hazard losing such a noble Space;
Sev'n times as long as human Life is now.
For these, and other Crimes, the Race of Man
Was quite destroy'd (good Noah, and his Sons,
Except); and Earth from its Pollutions dire
Of ev'ry Sort, by gen'ral Deluge, wash'd.

Heav'n now abridg'd the Term of mortal Life,
And to a Handful small our Days reduc'd,
To try, if when Existence was so short,
They would be chary of it; but in vain:
The dwindling Progeny of Noah's Sons,
No better prov'd; but plunder'd, warr'd, and slew
As eagerly, as if they meant t' exceed
Their Fathers Sins; and hasten, by their own,
The last Purgation that's design'd, by Fire.

Nimrod, the famous Hunter, first began
New Conquests' tir'd, at last, of hunting Beasts,
He turn'd his Cruelty to hunt Mankind,
As Beasts regarded; odious thence to God.
O let me Life support with Morsels begg'd;
A crippled Lazar, blotch'd with nauseous Sores,
Beheld with Pity by my MAKER'S Eye;
Rather than rule the Empire of the World
For Crimes and Cruelty, by HIM abhorr'd!

When Death had taught proud Nimrod, and Mankind,
How weak a Wretch the mighty Conqu'ror was;
Belus, his Son, not taught, inherited
His Empire, and his Cruelty and Pride:
By WAR'S perpetual, sought t'inlarge his Sire's
Extensive Conquests; nor could Limits set
To his Desires, insatiable as Death.

Down from victorious Belus, deify'd;
And not esteem'd a Fiend, as he deserv'd;
Time's Archives with attentive Care evolve;
You hear of nought but WAR, accursed WAR,
In Act or Rumour, or its dire Effects;
Of the abhorrent Earth, with human Blood
Polluted; Cities fair and large, destroy'd;
To ruinous Heaps reduc'd; and Countries rich,
To Defarts alter'd; now by prowling Wolves
Possess'd instead of Men, whose wretched Race,
Curst, sanguinary Brutes, in Form of Men,
Have quite extirpated. O Scenes of Grief
And Horror; odious, or to Sight or Thought!

Improving fast, this Second Race outvy'd
Ante-diluvian Cruelty: How much
Did these (tho' dressing hideous WAR in Pomp,
To hide its foul Deformity) increase
Its Horrors dire, and multiply its Woes?
These barb'd their dreadful Arrow-Heads; and dipp'd
In Juices venomous: A simple Wound
Too small a Mischief seem'd to satisfy
Their deadly Malice: These invented first
Scyth'd Chariots; as if Men were Grass indeed!
How many horrid Internments of Death
And Engines terrible, did these contrive,
Unknown to former Ages! How improve
The Trade of killing Men!—The lib'ral Art,
I should have said; for WAR was now an Art;
And none in greater Credit; none esteem'd
Fitter for such as boasted noble Birth.