War's

War's not pretty.

The war's been going on for years.

It is war's prize to take all vantages, and ten to one is no impeach of valour.

There stood a city, fronting far away / the mouths of Tiber and Italia's shore, / a Tyrian settlement of olden day, / rich in all wealth, and trained to war's rough lore, / Carthage the name, by Juno loved before / all places, even Samos.

"Who knows not Troy, th' AEneian house of fame, / the deeds and doers, and the war's renown / that fired the world? Not hearts so dull and tame / have Punic folk; not so is Phoebus known / to turn his back upon our Tyrian town."

"Wilt thou not see, if yet thy sire survive, / worn out with age, amid the war's alarms? / And if thy wife Creusa be alive, / and young Ascanius? for around thee swarms / the foe, and but for my protecting arms, / fierce sword or flame had swept them all away."

The world must ensure accountability for the genocidal war's perpetrators.