5
Starvation shall not raise her head;
The Speculator's cross'd;
His hoarded stores he now must sell,
His prospects gone- the markets tell,
His character is lost
Let all our sufferings be forgot,
Let Peace and Freedom be the lot,
Of every virtuous man:
While grateful bosoms never cease,
To thank kind Providence for Peace,
With all the powers they can.
The trumpet's direful clang no more,
Shall e'er be heard, nor cannons roar,
The Warrior sheaths his sword:
The plough shall wind a'ong the vale,
And Ceres bows before the gale,
To swell the Peasant's board.
The Shepherds pipe in sweeter strains,
Is heard at eve upon the plains,
Behind the snowy fleece ;
The Loom resumes its former hue,
The Weavers toils again renew,
And hails the dawn of Peace.
Now man and man are brothers all,
The olive leaf throughout the ball,
And joy appears apace,
Tho' Winter peeps behind the scene,
The spring with all its charms serene,
With all our ills efface.
