A Satire Against The Citizens Of London Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCBCDCDADAEAEEEEF ECGCGAGAEEEEEEHEHEHE EEEEIEIJIJKJLMLNJNJJ JOPEPELE

London hast thou accused meA
Of breach of laws the root of strifeB
Within whose breast did boil to seeA
So fervent hot thy dissolute lifeB
That even the hate of sins that growC
Within thy wicked walls so rifeB
For to break forth did convert soC
That terror could it not repressD
The which by words since preachers knowC
What hope is left for to redressD
By unknown means it liked meA
My hidden burden to expressD
Whereby it might appear to theeA
That secret sin hath secret spiteE
From justice' rod no fault is freeA
But that all such as work unrightE
In most quiet are next ill restE
In secret silence of the nightE
This made me with a reckless breastE
To wake thy sluggards with my bowF
A figure of the Lord's behestE
Whose scourge for sin the Scriptures showC
That as the fearful thunder clapG
By sudden flame at hand we knowC
Of pebble stones the soundless rapG
The dreadful plague might make thee seeA
Of God's wrath that doth thee enwrapG
That pride might know from conscience freeA
How lofty works may her defendE
And envy find as he hath soughtE
How other seek him to offendE
And wrath taste of each cruel thoughtE
The just shapp higher in the endE
And idle sloth that never wroughtE
To heaven his spirit lift may beginH
And greedy lucre live in dreadE
To see what hate ill got goods winH
The lechers ye that lusts do feedE
Perceive what secrecy is in sinH
And gluttons' hearts for sorrow bleedE
Awaked when their fault they findE
In loathsome vice each drunken wightE
To stir to God this was my mindE
Thy windows had done me no spiteE
But proud people that dread no fallI
Clothed with falsehood and unrightE
Bred in the closures of thy wallI
But wrested to wrath in fervent zealJ
Thou haste to strife my secret callI
Endured hearts no warning feelJ
O shameless whore is dread then goneK
By such thy foes as meant thy wealJ
O member of false BabylonL
The shop of craft the den of ireM
Thy dreadful doom draws fast uponL
Thy martyrs' blood by sword and fireN
In heaven and earth for justice callJ
The Lord shall hear their just desireN
The flame of wrath shall on thee fallJ
With famine and pest lamentablyJ
Stricken shall be thy lechers allJ
Thy proud towers and turrets highO
En'mies to God beat stone from stoneP
Thine idols burnt that wrought iniquityE
When none thy ruin shall bemoanP
But render unto the right wise LordE
That so hath judged BabylonL
Immortal praise with one accordE

Henry Howard



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