Fair Julia Amanda, now since it is peace, Methinks your hostilities also should cease; The shafts from your eyes, and the snares of your smile, Should cease---or at least be suspended awhile: 'Tis cruel to point your artillery of charms Against the poor lads who have laid down their arms.
The sons of Bellona who Britain defies, Altho' bulletproof, must they fall by your eyes? In vain have they bled, they have conquer'd in vain, If returning in triumph, they yield to your chain. For shame! in the olive's salubrious shade Your murders restrain, and let peace be obey'd; Since Europe negociates, alter your carriage, While they treat of peace, make a treaty of marriage.