Analysis of A Satire against the citizens of London
Henry Howard 1517 – 1547
London, hast thou accused me
Of breach of laws, the root of strife?
Within whose breast did boil to see,
So fervent hot, thy dissolute life,
That even the hate of sins that grow
Within thy wicked walls so rife,
For to break forth did convert so
That terror could it not repress.
The which, by words since preachers know
What hope is left for to redress,
By unknown means it liked me
My hidden burden to express,
Whereby it might appear to thee
That secret sin hath secret spite;
From justice' rod no fault is free;
But that all such as work unright
In most quiet are next ill rest.
In secret silence of the night
This made me, with a reckless breast,
To wake thy sluggards with my bow--
A figure of the Lord's behest,
Whose scourge for sin the Scriptures show.
That, as the fearful thunder-clap
By sudden flame at hand we know,
Of pebble-stones the soundless rap
The dreadful plague might make thee see
Of God's wrath that doth thee enwrap;
That pride might know, from conscience free
How lofty works may her defend;
And envy find, as he hath sought,
How other seek him to offend;
And wrath taste of each cruel thought
The just shapp higher in the end;
And idle sloth, that never wrought,
To heaven his spirit lift may begin;
And greedy lucre live in dread
To see what hate ill-got goods win;
The lechers, ye that lusts do feed,
Perceive what secrecy is in sin;
And gluttons' hearts for sorrow bleed,
Awaked, when their fault they find:
In loathsome vice each drunken wight
To stir to God, this was my mind.
Thy windows had done me no spite;
But proud people that dread no fall,
Clothed with falsehood and unright,
Bred in the closures of thy wall;
But wrested to wrath in fervent zeal,
Thou haste to strife, my secret call.
Endured hearts no warning feel.
O shameless whore, is dread then gone
By such thy foes as meant thy weal?
O member of false Babylon!
The shop of craft, the den of ire!
Thy dreadful doom draws fast upon;
Thy martyrs' blood, by sword and fire,
In heaven and earth for justice call.
The Lord shall hear their just desire;
The flame of wrath shall on thee fall;
With famine and pest lamentably
Stricken shall be thy lechers all;
Thy proud towers and turrets high,
En'mies to God, beat stone from stone,
Thine idols burnt that wrought iniquity;
When none thy ruin shall bemoan,
But render unto the right wise Lord
That so hath judged Babylon,
Immortal praise with one accord.
Scheme | ABABCBCDCDADAEAEFEFGFCHCHAHAIJIJIJKLKMKMNENEOEOPOPQORSRTOTOOOUVAVWRW |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 1011011 11110111 01111111 1101111 110011111 01110111 11111101 11011101 01111101 11111101 1011111 11010101 01110111 11011101 11011111 1111111 01101111 01010101 11110101 1111111 01010101 11110101 11010101 11011111 1101011 01011111 1111111 11111101 11011001 01011111 11011101 01111101 01110001 01011101 1101101101 0101101 11111111 0111111 011100101 01011101 111111 01011101 11111111 11011111 11101111 11101 10010111 110110101 11111101 0111101 11011111 11111111 1101110 01110111 11011101 110111010 010011101 011111010 01111111 110011 1011111 11100101 11111111 1101110100 11110101 110100111 111110 01011101 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 2,484 |
Words | 443 |
Sentences | 13 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 68 |
Lines Amount | 68 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 1,878 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 441 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 05, 2023
- 2:13 min read
- 161 Views
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"A Satire against the citizens of London" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/17380/a-satire-against-the-citizens-of-london>.
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