His fair large front and eye sublime declared
Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks
Round from his parted read more

His fair large front and eye sublime declared
Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clustering but not beneath his shoulders broad.

A crown is merely a hat that lets the rain in.

A crown is merely a hat that lets the rain in.

When kings are building, draymen have something to do.
[Ger., Wenn die Konige bau'n, haben die Karrner zu thun.]

When kings are building, draymen have something to do.
[Ger., Wenn die Konige bau'n, haben die Karrner zu thun.]

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,

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.

O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile read more

O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

Why, our battalia trebles that account:
Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,
Which they read more

Why, our battalia trebles that account:
Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,
Which they upon the adverse faction want.

Now let us sing, long live the king.

Now let us sing, long live the king.

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