Irish widow/The Tempest of War

The TEMPEST of WAR.

LET the tempeſt of war,
Be heard from afar,
And the trumpet's ſhrill clangor alarms,
Let the vallies around,
With echo reſound,
And terrible claſhing of arms.

Let rivers of blood,
Run down in a flood,
While mortals are gaſping for breath,
Let the brave if they will,
By honour and by ſkill,
Seek glory and conqueſt in death.

To live ſole and retire,
Is all my deſire,
Of my flocks and my Chloe poſſeſt;
For with them we obtain,
True peace without pain,
And a laſting enjoyment of reſt.

In a cottage or cell,
Where the ſhepherds do dwell,
With innocent freedom and eaſe;
They hve peaceable lives,
That are bleſt with good wives,
Who ſtudy their husbands to pleaſe.

What bleſſings below,
Doth Heaven beſtow,
Excelling ſuch pleaſure as this,
Where no ſorrow comes near,
Nor grief interfere
To fully our meaſure of bliſs.