And gain the glories of the martial train;
Reflect what woes surround the trophied car,
What crimson tints the wish’d-for circlet stain.
If tender sympathy be not unknown,
If heaven-born mercy in thy bosom glow,
Reject the impurpl’d wreath, the laurel crown
Can flourish only in the scenes of woe.
Wert thou the noblest bravest son of Mars,
Did fear precede thee, conquest still attend;
All the long glories of successive wars