_"Reviens pour consoler la terre, Aimable Paix, descends des cieux, Depuis assez long-tems la guerre Afflige un peuple généreux, Ah! quell' aurore pure & calme S'offre à nos regards satisfaits! Nous obtenons la double paline De la victoire & de la paix._ bis. _"Disparaissez tristes images, D'un tems malheureux qui n'est plus, Nous réparerons nos dommages Par la sagesse & les vertus. Que la paix enfin nous rallie! Plus d'ingrats ni de mécontens, O triomphe de la patrie! Plus de Français indifférens._ bis. _"Revenez phalanges guerrières, Héros vengeurs de mon pays, Au sein d'une épouse, d'un père, De vos parens, de vos amis, Revenez dans votre patrie Après tant d'effrayans hazards, Trouver ce qui charme la vie, L'amitié, l'amour, et les arts._ bis. _"Oh! vous qui, sous des catacombes, Etes couchés au champ d'honneur, Nos yeux sont fixés sur vos tombes, En chantant l'hymne du vainqueur, Nous transmettrons votre mémoire Jusqu' aux siécles à venir, Avec le burin de l'histoire, Et les larmes du souvenir."_ bis. SONG OF JOY, _In honor of peace._ Imitated from the French. To the same tune: _de la Marche Triomphante._ Come, lovely Peace, from heav'n descending, Thy presence earth at length shall grace; Those terrible afflictions ending, That long have griev'd a gen'rous race: We see Aurora rise refulgent; Serene she comes to bless our sight; While Fortune to our hopes indulgent, Bids victory and peace unite. Be gone, ye dark imaginations, Remembrances of horrors past: Virtue's and Wisdom's reparations Shall soon be made, and ever last. Now peace to happiness invites us; The bliss of peace is understood: With love fraternal peace delights us, Our private ease, and country's good. Re-enter, sons of war, your houses; Heroic deeds for peace resign: Embrace your parents and your spouses, And all to whom your hearts incline: Behold your countrymen invite you, With open, arms, with open hearts; Here find whatever can delight you; Here friendship, love, and lib'ral arts. Departed heroes, crown'd with glory, While you are laid in Honour's bed, Sad o'er your tombs we'll sing the story, How Gallia's warriors fought and bled: And, proud to shew to future ages The claims to patriot valour due, We'll vaunt, in our historic pages, The debt immense we owe to you. LETTER XVI. _Paris, November 13, 1801._ Enriched, as this capital now is, with the spoils of Greece and Italy, it may literally be termed the repository of the greatest curiosities existing. In the CENTRAL MUSEUM are collected all the prodigies of the fine arts, and, day after day, you may enjoy the sight of these wonders.