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Whatever I can say or do.
I'm sure not much avails;
I shall still Vicar be of read more
Whatever I can say or do.
I'm sure not much avails;
I shall still Vicar be of Bray,
Whichever side prevails.
Ah! vainest of all things
Is the gratitude of kings.
Ah! vainest of all things
Is the gratitude of kings.
Hail, glorious edifice, stupendous work!
God bless the Regent, and the Duke of York.
Hail, glorious edifice, stupendous work!
God bless the Regent, and the Duke of York.
I'd like to be a queen in people's hearts but I don't see myself
being Queen of this country.
I'd like to be a queen in people's hearts but I don't see myself
being Queen of this country.
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.
The Prussian Sovereigns are in possession of a crown not be the
grace of the people, but by God's read more
The Prussian Sovereigns are in possession of a crown not be the
grace of the people, but by God's grace.
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.]
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,
