O war, thou son of hell,
Whom angry heav'ns do make their minister,
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part
Hot coals of vengeance!--Let no soldier fly;
He that is truly delicate to war
Hath no self-love: nor he that loves himself.
SHAKS.: _2 Henry VI.,_ Act v., Sc. 2.
Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front.
SHAKS.: _Richard III.,_ Act i., Sc. 1.
War's a game, which, were their subjects wise,
Kings would not play at.
COWPER: _Task,_ Bk. v., Line 186.
War, war is still the cry, "War even to the knife!"
BYRON: _Ch. Harold,_ Canto i., St. 86.
War is a terrible trade; but in the cause that is righteous,
Sweet is the smell of powder.
LONGFELLOW: _Courtship of Miles Standish,_ Pt. iv., Line 135.