In vain the democratic host His equal would attain: For years to come they will not boast A second Thomas Paine. Though many may his name assume; Assumption is in vain; For every man has not his plume-- Whose name is Thomas Paine. Though heaven bestow'd on all its sons Their proper share of brain, It gives to few, ye simple ones, The mind of Thomas Paine. To tyrants and the tyrant crew, Indeed, he was the bane; He writ, and gave them all their due, And signed it,--Thomas Paine. Oh! how we loved to see him write And curb the race of Cain! They hope and wish that Thomas P---- May never rise again. What idle hopes!--yes--such a man May yet appear again.-- When they are dead, they die for aye: --Not so with Thomas Paine. [198] From the edition of 1815. PART VI THE WAR OF 1812 1809-1815 THE WAR OF 1812 1809-1815 ON THE SYMPTOMS OF HOSTILITIES.[199] 1809 But will they once more be engaged in a war, Be fated to discord again? A peace to the nations will nothing restore But the challenge of death and a deluge of gore! A modern crusade Is undoubtedly made:-- With treaties rejected, and treaties renew'd, A permanent treaty they never conclude. And who is to blame? we submissively ask-- Did nature predestine this curse to mankind; Or is it the cruel detestable task That tyrants impose, with their minions combined? We are anxious to know The source of our wo In a world where the blessings of nature abound Why discord, the bane of her blessings, is found. Must our freedom, our labors, our commerce, our all Be tamely surrender'd, to tyrants convey'd; Must the flag of the country disgracefully fall, To be torn by the dogs of the slaughtering trade? Does no one reply, With a tear in his eye, It must be the case, if we do not resent What monarchs have menaced and tyranny meant. Not a ship, or a barque, that departs from the shore But her cargo is plunder'd, her sailors are slain, Or arriving in England, we see them no more, Condemn'd in the court of deceit and chicane, Where their wicked decrees And their costs and their fees Have ruin'd the merchant--mechanics half fed, And sailors uncaptured are begging their bread. To reason with tyrants is surely absurd; To argue with them is to preach to the deaf: They argue alone by the length of the sword; Their honor the same as the word of a thief. In such to confide When a cause they decide, Is the wolf and the lamb (if the tale we recall) Where the weakest and meekest must go to the wall.