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James Henry Leigh Hunt - The Olive Of Peace
Work rating: Low

Now sheath`d is the Sword that was wild as the blast: 
The Tempest of Slaughter and Terror is past; 
Old ALBION her Neighbour all smilingly hails—
For the OLIVE of PEACE blooms again in our Vales!
                          Beam on the day,
                          Thou Olive gay:
                          "Matchless is he
                          Who planted thee;
    And mayst thou like him immortal be!"

Divinest of Olives, O, never was seen
A bloom so enchanting, a verdure so green!
Sweet, sweet do thy Beauties entwiningly smile
In the Vine-tree of France and the Oak of our Isle!
                          Beam on the day,
                          Thou Olive gay, &c.

Long, long did thy envied Exotic delay, 
`Till the voice of HUMANITY charm`d thee away; 
And here, ever here mayst thou bloom in repose, 
As firm as our Oak-tree, and gay as the Rose! 
                          Bloom on the day, 
                          Thou Olive gay, &c.

Let ALCIDES his Poplar of Majesty prize, 
And VENUS her Myrtle exalt to the skies: 
FRANCE and ALBION excell all the Gods of old Greece—
For they crown their wise heads with the OLIVE of PEACE! 
                          Bloom on the day, 
                          Thou Olive gay, &c.

The delicate Lily may gracefully mount,
And the Pink all her charms with the Rainbow recount;
Green, green is the Olive on ALBION`S brow,
And the Lily and Pink to the Olive must bow!
                          Bloom on the day,
                          Thou Olive gay, &c.

Thou Olive divine, may Eternity`s Sun 
Beam warm where thy roots thro` the ages shall run; 
The Dew of Affection `light soft where they twine, 
And the Love of an Universe stamp thee divine! 
                          Bloom on the day, 
                          Thou Olive gay: 
                          "Matchless was he 
                          Who planted thee;
    And mayst thou like him immortal be!"
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