God gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine,
For on his throne his sceptre do they sway;
read more

God gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine,
For on his throne his sceptre do they sway;
And as their subjects ought them to obey,
So kings should feare and serve their God againe.

Here lies our mutton-looking king,
Whose word no man relied on,
Who never said a foolish thing
read more

Here lies our mutton-looking king,
Whose word no man relied on,
Who never said a foolish thing
No ever did a wise one.

For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.

For monarchs seldom sigh in vain.

That man is deceived who thinks it slavery to live under an
excellent prince. Never does liberty appear in read more

That man is deceived who thinks it slavery to live under an
excellent prince. Never does liberty appear in a more gracious
form than under a pious king.
[Lat., Fallitur egregio quisquis sub principe credet
Servitutem. Nunquam libertas gratior extat
Quam sub rege pio.]

Ah! vainest of all things
Is the gratitude of kings.

Ah! vainest of all things
Is the gratitude of kings.

Hener was the hero-king,
Heaven-born, dear to us,
Showing his shield
A shelter for read more

Hener was the hero-king,
Heaven-born, dear to us,
Showing his shield
A shelter for peace.

A partial world will list to my lays,
While Anna reigns, and sets a female name
Unrival'd read more

A partial world will list to my lays,
While Anna reigns, and sets a female name
Unrival'd in the glorious lists of fame.

For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
read more

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,

In that fierce light which beats upon a throne.

In that fierce light which beats upon a throne.