War

by John Spateman

And, as this wicked World is now become,
None is more fit for such who should excel
In Magnanimity, as well as Wealth:
When WAR is unavoidable; I mean,
In Self-defence against invading Foes;
Then GEORGE, then Cumberland, by Heav'n approv'd,
Intrepid lead their animated Troops;
Then Marlbro', then a hundred Heroes more,
Follow their glorious Chief; with Him resolv'd
To live or die: Yet, gen'rous, pity Those
They conquer; and had rather do them Good.

But these esteem'd WAR glorious, tho' unjust;
Were Satan's Volunteers; and wilfully
Created, fought, abominable War;
And chose it for their Business, and Delight.
With these, all Arts, all useful Sciences,
All moral Excellence, Man's Glory, true
And only Heroism, were mean, compar'd
To the superior Praise of killing Man.
This was heroic Virtue deem'd; this thought
The noblest Way to gain immortal Fame;
This, their Historians celebrate, as Worth
Divine; this, flatt'ring Poets to the Skies,
To Heav'n itself exalt; and deify
Their Heroes false, more fitly, by themselves,
Sometimes compar'd to rav'nous Beasts of Prey.
Rapt, by the magic Sweetness of their Verse,
From due Reflection, Men with Pleasure hear
Of horrid Wounds and Death; which Souls humane
Should with Abhorrence think of, tho' deserv'd.

This brutal Fierceness, by a vile Abuse
Of Words, was Fortitude and Manhood call'd,
As most becoming Man; tho' his chief Shame;
Contrariant quite to true Humanity:
For Man was in GOD'S Image made; and GOD
Is Love; which therefore suits with Manhood best.
O! had their Heroes equal Courage shewn,
Protecting Innocence and Right, from Wrong,
And cruel Violence; in Defence of Truth
Oppress'd; in bearing the worst Ills of Life
With Fortitude heroic; had they, wise,
Rather subdu'd to Reason's Sway whate'er
Was vicious in their Souls; they then had Praise
In Truth deserv'd, and well been Heroes styl'd:
More truly, now, dire, bloody Murderers,
Who multiply ten-hundred-thousand-fold
The Sin of Cain: He but one Brother slew.

In horrid, barbarous, destructive WAR,
In one brief Day, has the voracious Sword
Devour'd a Hundred-thousand five times told!
Like the vast Herds, at Sion's solemn Feasts,
They fell, a pompous Sacrifice to Mars:
What Appetite to kill! What Industry
Untir'd! What Rage and Fury prompted on!

Let lively Fancy picture in your Mind,
How grand a Spectacle such Host must yield
At first; all rang'd in Bands, and due Array,
With order'd Spear and Shield, and burnish'd Arms.
Suppose them now encount'ring: What Le Brun
The Horrors and Confusion of the Fight
Can paint? O human Souls! O Madness dire!
*When did ten thousand Tigers, Lions, Bulls,
Ten thousand of their Species meet, and thus
Engage with all their Fury? Men alone
Act thus; this, this is the superior Fruit
Of Reason: Savage Creatures spare their Kind,
Or but enconter single, or by Hap.

*Bruyere.

Victory gain'd, and Slaughter glutted now;
Walk o'er the Field of Battle, soak'd with Blood,
As after plenteous Rain; and if thy Soul
Sustains the shocking Sight, the Carnage view;
Their maim'd, and mangled Corpses, horrid Wounds,
Surprising Postures, Countenances grim,
Convuls'd by Rage and Death, and threat'ning still:
But if thy Heart be Flesh, and loves Mankind,
Soon, with Abhorrence, wilt thou turn away,
And, weeping; curse abominable WAR.

Assemble, all ye Beasts, and Birds of Prey,
Lo, what a Feast the Cruelty of Man,
And WAR, provides you: Fill yourselves, devour;
But wonder, while ye feed, that Men should prove
More cruel, and more foolish Brutes than you.
Help ye to bury those whom no Man will:
No pitying Tobit these are like to find:
But ye, however willing, are too few:
Your Leavings, their half-eaten Carcases,
Abhorr'd by you, at last will putrefy;
And by their nauseous Stench endanger more
The Conquerors, than Living, by their Arms.

On yonder Hill, see little Rome arise,
Unpromising, despis'd, and bold, to hope
Ev'n short Duration: That ere long will prove
The Queen of Cities; Martial Rome; as if
Its Founder were in Truth the Progeny
Of Mars; and spread its Conquests o'er the Earth.
A Race as bloody, as tho' all had fuck'd
Wolves, like their Founder; all, like him, been doom'd
To raise their City on their Brethrens Blood.
Fit Omen; well by the Event explain'd!
Woe to the East, and West, and North, and South,
Whose Sons That Rome shall sacrifice to Mars!
Yet the pugnacious Brood, between themselves
Engag'd, shall oft revenge the injur'd World.

The LORD could strike with various Plagues: But He
Abhorrence feels, in Mercy: HE could send
His Angels; they obey, not love the Task,
And pity while they strike: HE could employ
Foul Fiends for Executioners; but finds
Yet fitter Instrument; and sends a Man;
He loves it, and will do the odious Work
With Pleasure, and not tire; not nauseate Blood
At last; but like the Leech, still thirst for more:
An Alexander, Cæsar, Kouli-Kan;
Compared to these, a Fiend would be a Fool.