In tranquil safety number o’er the slain,
Or tell of cities burning on the plain.
There mayst thou mark the boy, with earnest gaze
Fix’d on his mother’s lips, intent to know,
By names of insult, those whom future days
Shall see him meet in arms, their deadliest foe.
There proudly many a glittering dame displays
Bracelet and zone, with radiant gems that glow,
By lovers, husbands, home in triumph borne,
From the sad brides of fallen warriors torn.