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 Nought save the rubies in the diadem; And in the throne, the goal of Cromwell's labours, So many ells of velvet to be sold To the old-clothes man! By a thirst for gold Consumed, which nought assuages, Harrison Values the sceptre as a goldsmith might; And if a crown should tempt his itching palm, He'd not usurp it, but would pilfer it. Barebones [in an ecstatic reverie. Ah! wherefore, in these days of misery, Doth God on high of Jacob's lion make A wretched scapegoat? Oliver bedight In robes of honour at the Lord's right hand Seemed aye to walk; e'en as the ripened grain He was, and wore th' invulnerable mail Of Judah; when to their bedazzled eyes He but appeared, the Philistines took flight, Crying: "'Tis he!" He was, O Israel, The pillow of thy bed! but in thy mouth That honey to foul poison is transformed; He has turned Tyrian, and Edom's sons At thee abandoned laugh tumultuously! The Amorites were all athrob with joy, To see a demon drive him them toward; Inflamed by Abishag, he fain would be A king as David was,—but may his fate Be that of Agag! Syndercomb. Let th' usurper die! Lambert.He hath o'erfilled the measure of his crimes. Drogheda.Still smokes Drogheda with his victims' blood. Jeroboam d'Emer.His heart doth to Gomorrha's children turn, And Tyre's.