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The Bishop orders his tomb at Saint Praxed's Church ; Bishop Blougram's apology

 
dc.contributor Gallacher, Gordon Computing Centre Kings College London
dc.contributor.author Browning, Robert, 1812-1889
dc.date.accessioned 2018-07-27
dc.date.accessioned 2019-07-04T09:53:26Z
dc.date.available 2019-07-04T09:53:26Z
dc.date.created 1845
dc.date.issued 1988-10-17
dc.identifier ota:1295
dc.identifier.citation http://purl.ox.ac.uk/ota/1295
dc.identifier.uri http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.12024/1295
dc.description.abstract Resource deposited with the Oxford Text Archive.
dc.format.extent Text data (1 file : ca. 51.9 KB)
dc.format.medium Digital bitstream
dc.language English
dc.language.iso eng
dc.publisher University of Oxford
dc.relation.ispartof Oxford Text Archive Core Collection
dc.rights Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
dc.rights.uri http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/
dc.rights.label PUB
dc.subject.lcsh Poems -- Great Britain -- 19th century
dc.subject.other Poems
dc.title The Bishop orders his tomb at Saint Praxed's Church ; Bishop Blougram's apology
dc.type Text
has.files yes
branding Oxford Text Archive
files.size 57641
files.count 2
otaterms.date.range 1800-1899

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232 MEN AND WOMEN THE BISHOP ORDERS HIS TOMB AT SAINT PRAXED'S CHURCH. ROME 15--- VANITY, saith the preacher, vanity ! Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back? Nephews---sons mine . . . ah God, I know not! Well-- She, men would have to be your mother once, Old Gandolf envied me, so fair she was! What's done is done, and she is dead beside, Dead long ago, and I am Bishop since, And as she died so must we die ourselves, And thence ye may perceive the world's a dream. Life, how and what is it? As here I lie In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask " Do I live, am I dead? " Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed's ever was the church for peace; And so, about this tomb of mine. I fought With tooth and nail to save my niche, ye know: ---Old Gandolf cozened me, despite my care; THE BISHOP ORDERS HIS TOMB 233 Shrewd was that snatch from out the corner South He graced his carrion . . .
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