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8
Strange and Wonderful Prophecies.
But he in whose hand rests thy life,
even breath, thy ways, and all,
Thou hast not glorified him
sent this wrote on the wall.
God numbered thy Kingdom hath
ended; the Hand points here,
In Balance he hath weighed thee too,
The set hour drawing near.
How light soever by thee set,
thou as thy weightless Gold,
His Image wanting, found much more
lighter than can be told.
[1] Parted, divided thine Estate,
given to the Medes is,
At Hand, the Hand bids it adieu,
[2] finish'd thy Majesties.
Reveale | Anagr. | Eleanor | ||||
O Daniel. | Audeley |
FINIS.