Best Men, that Warr'd still firmly for their Prince,
Thô Faithless, and Unshaken Duty shew'd;
Worthy of Better End. Where Cities stood,
Well Fenc'd, and Numerous, Desolation Reigns,
And Emptiness, dismay'd, unfed, unhous'd,
The Widow, and the Orphan Strole around
The Desart wide; with oft retorted Eye
They view the Gaping Walls, and Poor Remains
Of Mansions, once their own (now loathsome Haunts
Of Birds obscene), bewailing loud the Loss
Of Spouse, or Sire, or Son, e'er Manly Prime
Slain in sad Conflict, and complain of Fate
As Partial, and too Rigorous; nor find
Where to Retire themselves, or where Appease
Th'afflictive keen Desire of Food, expos'd
To Winds, and Storms, and Jaws of Savage Beasts.
Thrice Happy Albion! from the World disjoin'd
By Heav'n Propitious, Blissful Seat of Peace!
Learn from Thy Neighbour's Miseries to Prize
Thy Welfare; Crown'd with Nature's Choicest Gifts,
Remote Thou hear'st the Dire Effect of War,
Depopulation, void alone of Fear,
And Peril, whilst the Dismal Symphony
