When the proud fleet that bears the red-cross flag [R] 315
  In that unworthy service was prepared
  To mingle, I beheld the vessels lie,
  A brood of gallant creatures, on the deep;
  I saw them in their rest, a sojourner
  Through a whole month of calm and glassy days 320
  In that delightful island which protects
  Their place of convocation [S]—­there I heard,
  Each evening, pacing by the still sea-shore,
  A monitory sound that never failed,—­
  The sunset cannon.  While the orb went down 325
  In the tranquillity of nature, came
  That voice, ill requiem! seldom heard by me
  Without a spirit overcast by dark
  Imaginations, sense of woes to come,
  Sorrow for human kind, and pain of heart. 330

    In France, the men, who, for their desperate ends,
  Had plucked up mercy by the roots, were glad
  Of this new enemy.  Tyrants, strong before
  In wicked pleas, were strong as demons now;
  And thus, on every side beset with foes, 335
  The goaded land waxed mad; the crimes of few
  Spread into madness of the many; blasts
  From hell came sanctified like airs from heaven. 
  The sternness of the just, the faith of those
  Who doubted not that Providence had times 340
  Of vengeful retribution, theirs who throned
  The human Understanding paramount
  And made of that their God, [T] the hopes of men
  Who were content to barter short-lived pangs
  For a paradise of ages, the blind rage 345
  Of insolent tempers, the light vanity
  Of intermeddlers, steady purposes
  Of the suspicious, slips of the indiscreet,
  And all the accidents of life were pressed
  Into one service, busy with one work. 350
  The Senate stood aghast, her prudence quenched,
  Her wisdom stifled, and her justice scared,
  Her frenzy only active to extol
  Past outrages, and shape the way for new,
  Which no one dared to oppose or mitigate. 355

    Domestic carnage now filled the whole year
  With feast-days; old men from the chimney-nook,
  The maiden from the bosom of her love,
  The mother from the cradle of her babe,
  The warrior from the field—­all perished, all—­360
  Friends, enemies, of all parties, ages, ranks,
  Head after head, and never heads enough
  For those that bade them fall.  They found their joy,
  They made it proudly, eager as a child,
  (If like desires of innocent little ones 365
  May with such heinous appetites be compared,)
  Pleased in some open field to exercise
  A toy that mimics with revolving wings
  The motion of a wind-mill; though the air
  Do of itself blow fresh, and make the