"Why, there's Peace, Jack, come damme let's push round the grog,
And awhile altogether in good humor jog,
For they say we shall soon go ashore;
Where the anchor of friendship may drift or be lost,
As on life's troubled ocean at random we're tost,
And, perhaps, we may never meet more."
Thus spoke Tom; while each messmate approvingly heard
That the contest was ended, their courage ne'er fear'd,
And soon Peace would restore them to love;
And the hearts by wrongs rous'd, that no fear could assuage,
At Humanity's shrine dropt the thunder of rage,
And the Lion resign'd to the Dove!
Heaven smil'd on the olive that Reason had rear'd,
With her rich pearly tribute sweet Pity appear'd,
And plac'd it on each brilliant eye;
'Twas the tear that Compassion had nurs'd in her breast,
To bestow on the friend, or the foe, if distress'd.
Like dew-drops distill'd from the sky!
Next on friends lost in battle they mournfully dwelt
'Twas a theme that together the heart and eye felt,
And a bumper to valor they gave;
While the liquor that flow'd in the bless'd circling bowl
Was enrich'd by a tribute that flow'd from the soul,
"A tear for the tomb of the brave!"