Shirley, Poems, 52—3.
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Nothing But the Blood What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus. What can make me whole again? A lyric poem in the form of an address to a particular subject, often elevated in style or. Robinson World History.
Elizabeth will gain the throne of England after her brother Edward and her sister Mary died. Elizabeth will get rid of. My soul, bless the L ORD!
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The L ORD is most great, with glory arrayed, majestic his state. The light is his garment, the skies are his shade, and over. Jesus, I my cross have taken, All to leave and follow Thee. Similar presentations. Upload Log in.
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Yet then with foot as stumbling as his tongue Prest for his place among the Learned throng. But Ben, who knew not neither foe nor friend, Sworn Enemy to all that do pretend, Rose more then ever he was seen severe, Shook his gray locks, and his own Bayes did tear At this intrusion. Then with Laurel wand, The awful Sign of his supream command. At whose dread Whisk Virgil himself does quake, And Horace patiently its stroke does take, As he crowds in he whipt him ore the pate Like Pembroke at the Masque, and then did rate.
Far from these blessed shades tread back agen Most servil' wit, and Mercenary Pen. Go seek the novice Statesmen, and obtrude On them some Romane cast similitude, Tell them of Liberty, the Stories fine, Until you all grow Consuls in your wine.
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Or thou Dictator of the glass bestow On him the Cato, this the Cicero. Foul Architect that hadst not Eye to see How ill the measures of these States agree. But the nor Ignorance nor seeming good Misled, but malice fixt and understood. Because some one than thee more worthy weares The sacred Laurel, hence are all these teares?
Must therefore all the World be set on flame, Because a Gazet writer mist his aim? When the Sword glitters ore the Judges head, And fear has Coward Churchmen silenced, Then is the Poets time, 'tis then he drawes, And single fights forsaken Vertues cause. He, when the wheel of Empire, whirleth back, And though the World disjointed Axel crack, Sings still of ancient Rights and better Times, Seeks wretched good, arraigns successful Crimes.
But thou base man first prostituted hast Our spotless knowledge and the studies chast. Apostatizing from our Arts and us, To turn the Chronicler to Spartacus. Yet wast thou taken hence with equal fate, Before thou couldst great Charles his death relate.
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