Edward Moore ( 4 of 4 )
But from the hoop's bewitching round,
He very shoe has power to wound.
But from the hoop's bewitching round,
He very shoe has power to wound.
Can't I another's face commend,
Or to her virtues be a friend,
But instantly your forehead louers,
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Can't I another's face commend,
Or to her virtues be a friend,
But instantly your forehead louers,
As if her merit lessen'd yours?
So shall they build me altars in their zeal,
Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel:
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So shall they build me altars in their zeal,
Where knaves shall minister, and fools shall kneel:
Where faith may mutter o'er her mystic spell,
Written in blood--and Bigotry may swell
The sail he spreads for Heav'n with blasts from hell!
I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice.
I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice.