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Every noble crown is, and on Earth will forever be, a crown of
thorns.
Every noble crown is, and on Earth will forever be, a crown of
thorns.
Every citizen is king under a citizen king.
[Fr., Tout citoyen est roi sous un roi citoyen.]
Every citizen is king under a citizen king.
[Fr., Tout citoyen est roi sous un roi citoyen.]
Hail to the crown by Freedom shaped--to gird
An English sovereign's brow! and to the throne
Whereon read more
Hail to the crown by Freedom shaped--to gird
An English sovereign's brow! and to the throne
Whereon he sits! whose deep foundations lie
In veneration and the people's love.
'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy old crown on 'er 'ead?
She read more
'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy old crown on 'er 'ead?
She 'as ships on the foam--she 'as millions at 'ome,
An' she pays us poor beggars in red.
O Richard! O my king!
The universe forsakes thee!
O Richard! O my king!
The universe forsakes thee!
A prince, the moment he is crown'd,
Inherits every virtue sound,
As emblems of the sovereign power,
read more
A prince, the moment he is crown'd,
Inherits every virtue sound,
As emblems of the sovereign power,
Like other baubles in the Tower:
Is generous, valiant, just, and wise,
And so continues till he dies.
Knowest thou not that kings have long hands?
[Lat., An nescis longos regibus esse manus?]
Knowest thou not that kings have long hands?
[Lat., An nescis longos regibus esse manus?]
For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
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For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed--
All murdered; for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and humored thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence, Throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
For you have but mistook me all this while.
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends. Subjected thus,
