Classic Poem

And thus went out this Lamp of Light,
Who 'gainst the Pope fought a good fight.

A Cruelty beyond compare,
And such the Papists mercies are.

Those who in Blood their chiefest pleasure have,
Most commonly in Blood roul to their Grave.

Blood will have Blood, and seldom seen we have
That Murtherers go quiet to their Grave.

Thus some do make a sport of Cruelty,
And with delight do practice Villany.

Those who to such a height of Pride aspire ,
The Devil and not God must be their Sire.