The European Magazine, XXXVII (June 1800), p. 471
Now sanguine WAR her crimson banner rears,
The once still plain with awful din resounds;
Now Terror's helmet plum'd with dread appears,
And martial clang the tranquil ear confounds!
Ah! me, that man should seek the host afar,
And, bright in arms, the polish'd falchion wield;
Fate stalks, relentless, through the files of war,
And sends the levell'd thunder o'er the field!
WAR's dreadful sound disturbs the rosy day,—
Her iron-ranks in glitt'ring order stand;
Ah! when shall PEACE her olive-branch display,
And give sweet comfort to a favour'd land!
O! sheath the SWORD!—and let BRITANNIA prove
The friend of NATURE—and the form I love!