Where now sweet Peace and Unity reside:

The happy peasant of Tweed's smiling dale,

Whene'er his spade disturbs a Soldier's bones,

With shudd'ring horror ruminates on War;

Then deeper hides the awful spectacle,

Blessing the peaceful days in which he lives

  Since Peace has bless'd the villages on Tweed,

And War has ceas'd to drive his iron car

On Britain's shore, what myriads of men

Over the Eastern and the Western Seas

Have follow'd War, and found untimely graves.

Where'er the jarring interests of States

Excite the brave to' advance their native land

By deeds of arms, Britons are foremost found.

The sprightly bands, hast'ning from place to place,

Gayly carousing in their gay attire,

Invite, not force the train of heedless youths,

Who croud to share their jollity and joy:

To martial music dancing into death,

They fell their Freedom for a holiday;

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