There furious war and devastation reign,
And pity bids us weep our slaughter’d friends
Yet cannot sympathy our peace molest,
We grow by sad comparison more blest.
O come, the time prophetic bards foretold,
When tyranny, and war shall be no more;
When circling years, restore the age of gold,
And every sorrow, want, and pain are o’er;
When heaven-born love, and peace shall reign again,
To bless an unambitious gentle race of men.