The Glories of our Blood and State

James Shirley 1596 (London) – 1666 (London)



The glories of our blood and state
      Are shadows, not substantial things;
    There is no armour against fate;
      Death lays his icy hand on kings.
      Sceptre and crown
      Must tumble down,
    And in the dust be equal made
    With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

      Some men with swords may reap the field,
    And plant fresh laurels where they kill;
  But their strong nerves at last must yield,
    They tame but one another still.
      Early or late,
      They stoop to fate,
  And must give up their murmuring breath,
  When they, pale captives, creep to death.

      The garlands wither on your brow,
    Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
  Upon death's purple altar now,
    See where the victor-victim bleeds.
      Your heads must come
      To the cold tomb;
  Only the actions of the just
  Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on May 03, 2023

42 sec read
140

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABABCCDD EFEFAAGG HIHIXXJJ
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 852
Words 141
Stanzas 3
Stanza Lengths 8, 8, 8

James Shirley

James Shirley (or Sherley) was an English dramatist. He belonged to the great period of English dramatic literature, but, in Charles Lamb's words, he "claims a place among the worthies of this period, not so much for any transcendent genius in himself, as that he was the last of a great race, all of whom spoke nearly the same language and had a set of moral feelings and notions in common." His career of play writing extended from 1625 to the suppression of stage plays by Parliament in 1642. more…

All James Shirley poems | James Shirley Books

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    Who wrote this? 'Look on my Works, ye Mightyand despair!'
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    D William Shakespeare