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SHADWELL, Thomas


Song of Devils

Prepare, prepare, new Guests draw near
And on the brink of Hell appear.

Kindle fresh Flame of Sulphur there.
Assemble all ye Fiends,
Wait for the dreadful ends
Of impious Men, who far excell
All th'Inhabitants of Hell.

Let 'em come, Let 'em come,
To an Eternal dreadful Doom,
Let 'em come, Let 'em come.

In Mischiefs they have all the Damn'd out-done;
Here they shall weep, and shall unpitty'd groan,
Here they shall howl, and make Eternal moan.

By Bloud and Lust they have deserv'd so well,
That they shall feel the hottest flames of Hell.

In vain they shall here their past mischiefs bewail,
In exquisite Torments that never shall fail.

Eternal Darkness they shall find,
And them Eternal chains shall bind
To infinite pain of Sense and Mind.

Let 'em come, Let 'em come,
To an Eternal dreadful Doom,
Let 'em come, Let 'em come.



Dear Pretty Youth

Dear pretty youth, unveil your eyes,

How can you sleep when I am by?

Were I with you all night to be,

Methinks I could from sleep be free.

Alas, my dear, you're cold as stone:

You must no longer lie alone.

But be with me my dear, and I in each arm

Will hug you close and keep you warm.