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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=498932" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Mock Song</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=498932" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I.<br> Now Whitehall's in the grave,<br> And our head is our slave,<br>The bright pearl in his close shell of oyster;<br> Now the miter is lost,<br> The proud Praelates, too, crost,<br>And all Rome's confin'd to a cloister.<br> He, that Tarquin was styl'd,<br> Our white land's exil'd,<br> Yea, undefil'd;<br>Not a court ape's left to confute us;<br> Then let your voyces rise high,<br> As your colours did flye,<br> And flour'shing cry:<br>Long live the brave Oliver-Brutus.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=498932" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">  II.<br> Now the sun is unarm'd,<br> And the moon by us charm'd,<br>All the stars dissolv'd to a jelly;<br> Now the thighs of the Crown<br> And the arms are lopp'd down,<br>And the body is all but a belly.<br> Let the Commons go on,<br> The town is our own,<br> We'l rule alone:<br>For the Knights have yielded their spent-gorge;<br> And an order is tane<br> With HONY SOIT profane,<br> Shout forth amain:<br>For our Dragon hath vanquish'd the St. George.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Richard+Lovelace">Richard Lovelace</a></strong></div>