Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	applause_n	young_a	youth_n	18	3	7.8663	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A36624	Examen poeticum being the third part of miscellany poems containing variety of new translations of the ancient poets, together with many original copies by the most eminent hands.	Dryden, John, 1631-1700.; Fracastoro, Girolamo, 1478-1553. Syphilis.; Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715.	1693 (1693)	Wing D2277; ESTC R122	135,928	614

by what he heàrs below As in some Piece whilst Luke his Skill exprest A Cunning Angel came and drew the rest So whilst you play some Godhead does impart Harmonious aid Divinity helps Art Some Cherub finishes what you begun And to a Miracle improves a Tune To burning Rome when frantick Nero play'd Viewing your Face no more he had survey'd The reigning flames but struck with strange surprize Confess 'em less than those of Anna's Eyes But had he heard thy Lute he soon had found His Rage eluded and his Crime atton'd Thine like Amphion's Hand had rais'd the Stone And from Destruction call'd a Fairer Town Malice to Musick had been forc'd to yield Nor could he Burn so fast as thou couldst Build An EPITAPH ON THE Lady WHITMORE BY Mr. DRYDEN FAir Kind and True a Treasure each alone A Wife a Mistress and a Friend in one Rest in this Tomb rais'd at thy Husband 's cost Here sadly summing what he had and lost Come Virgins e're in equal Bands you join Come first and offer at her Sacred Shrine Pray but for half the Vertues of this Wife Compound for all the rest with longer Life And wish your Vows like hers may be return'd So Lov'd when Living and when Dead so Mourn'd AN EPITAPH ON Sir Palmes Fairborne's TOMB IN Westminster Abby By Mr. DRYDEN Sacred To the Immortal Memory of Sir Palmes Fairborne Knight Governor of Tangier in execution of which Command he was mortally wounded by a Shot from the Moors then Besieging the Town in the 46th year of his Age. October 24th 1680. YE Sacred Relicks which your Marble keep Here undisturb'd by Wars in quiet sleep Discharge the trust which when it was below Fairborne's undaunted Soul did undergo And be the Towns Palladium from the Foe Alive and dead these Walls he will defend Great Actions great Examples must attend The Candian Siege his early Valour knew Where Turkish Blood did his young hands imbrew From thence returning with deserv'd Applause Against the Moors his well-flesh'd Sword be draws The same the Courage and the same the Cause His Youth and Age his Life and Death combine As in some great and regular design All of a Piece throughout and all Divine Still nearer Heaven his Vertues shone more bright Like rising flames expanding in their height The Martyr's Glory Crown'd the Soldiers Fight More bravely Brittish General never fell Nor General 's Death was e're reveng'd so well Which his pleas'd Eyes beheld before their close Follow'd by thousand Victims of his Foes To his lamented loss for time to come His pious Widow Consecrates this Tomb. To the Reverend Dr. SHERLOCK Dean of St. Paul's ON His Practical Discourse Concerning DEATH BY Mr. PRIOR FOrgive the Muse who in unhallow'd Strains The Saint one Moment from his God detains For sure what e're you do where e're you are 'T is all but one good Work one constant Pray'r Forgive her and intreat that God to whom Thy favour'd Vows with kind acceptance come To raise her Numbers to that blest Degree That suits a Song of Piety and Thee Wondrous good Man whose Labours may repel The force of Sin may stop the Rage of Hell Who like the Baptist from thy God wert sent To be the Voice and bid the World repent Thee Youth shall study and no more engage His flatt'ring Wishes for uncertain Age No more with fruitless Care and cheated Strife Chace fleeting Pleasure through this Maze of Life Finding the wretched All He here can have But present Food and but a future Grave Each great as Philip's Son shall sit and view This sordid World and weeping ask a New Decrepit Age shall read Thee and consess Thy Labours can asswage where Medcine 's cease Shall bless thy Words their wounded Souls relief The drops that sweeten their last Dregs of Life Shall look to Heav'n and laugh at all beneath Own Riches gather'd Trouble Fame a breath And Life an Ill whose only Cure is Death Thy even thoughts with so much plainness flow Their Sense untutor'd Infancy may know Yet to that height is all that plainness wrought Wit may admire and letter'd Pride be taught Easie in words thy Style in Sense sublime On its blest Steps each Age and Sex may rise 'T is like the Ladder in the Patriarch's Dream Its foot on Earth its height beyond the Skies Diffus'd its Vertue boundless is its Pow'r 'T is publick Health and Universal Cure Of Heav'nly Manna 't is a second Feast A Nation 's Food and All to every taste To its last height mad Brittain's Guilt was rear'd And various Deaths for various Crimes she fear'd With your kind Works her drooping Hopes revive You bid her read repent adore and live You wrest the Bolt from Heav'ns avenging hand Stop ready Death and save a sinking Land O save us still still bless us with thy stay O want thy Heav'n till we have learnt the way Refuse to leave thy destin'd Charge too soon And for the Church's good defer thy own O live and let thy Works urge our belief Live to explain thy Doctrine by thy Life Till future Infancy baptiz'd by thee Grow ripe in Years and old in Piety Till Christians yet unborn be taught to die Then in full Age and hoary Holiness Retire great Teacher to thy promis'd Bliss Untoucht thy Tomb uninjur'd be thy Dust As thy own Fame amongst the future Just Till in last Sounds the dreaded Trumpet speaks Till Judgment calls and quickned Nature wakes Till through the utmost Earth and deepest Sea Our scatter'd Atoms find their hidden way In haste to cloath their Kindred Souls again Perfect our State and build Immortal Man Then fearless Thou who well sustain'dst the Fight To Paths of Joy and Worlds of endless Light Lead up all those who heard thee and believ'd ' Midst thy own Flock great Shepherd be receiv'd And glad all Heav'n with Millions thou hast sav'd ON EXODUS 3. 14. I am that I am A Pindarique ODE BY Mr. PRIOR MAN foolish Man Scarce know'st thou how thy self began Scarce hast thou Thought enough to prove Thou art Yet steel'd with study'd boldness thou dar'st try To send thy doubting Reason's dazled Eye Through the mysterious Gulph of vast Immensity Much thou canst there discern and much impart Vain Wretch suppress thy knowing Pride Mortifie thy Learned Lust Vain are thy thoughts whilst thou thy self art Dust. Wisdom her Oars and Wit her Sails may lend The Helm let Politick Experience guide Yet cease to hope thy short-liv'd Bark shall ride Down spreading Fate 's unnavigable Tide What tho' still it farther tend Still 't is further from its end And in the bosom of that boundless Sea Loses it self and its increasing way 2. With daring Pride and insolent Delight You boast your Doubts resolv'd your Labours crown'd And 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 your God forsooth is found Incomprehensible and Infinite But is he therefore found Vain Searcher no Let your imperfect Definition show That nothing less than nothing

his beauty more His colour blue for Acis he might pass And Acis chang'd into a Stream he was But mine no more he rowls along the Plains With rapid motion and his Name retains ON Mr. HOBS Written by The E. of MULGRAVE SUCH is the mode of these censorious days The Art is lost of knowing how to praise Poets are envious now and Fools alone Admire at Wit because themselves have none Yet whatsoe're is by vain Criticks thought Praising is harder much than finding fault In homely pieces ev'n the Dutch excel Italians only can draw Beauty well As Strings alike wound up so equal prove That one resounding makes the other move From a like cause Satyrs have pleas'd so much We simpathize with each ill-natur'd touch And as the sharp Infection spreads about The Reader 's Malice helps the Writer out To blame is easie to commend is bold Yet if the Muse inspires it who can hold To Merit we are bound to give applause Content to suffer in so just a Cause While in dark Ignorance Men lay afraid Of Fancies Ghosts and ev'ry empty Shade Great Hobs appear'd and by his Reason's light Put such Fantastick Forms to shameful flight Fond is their fear who think we needs must be To Vice enslav'd if from vain Terrours free The Wise and Good Morality will guide And Superstition all the World beside In other Authors tho the sense be good 'T is not sometimes so eas'ly understood That Jewel oft unpolish'd has remain'd Some words shou'd be left out and some explain'd So that in search of sense we either stray Or else grow weary in so rough a way But here bright Eloquence does always smile In such a choice yet unaffected stile As does both Knowledge and Delight impart The force of Reason with the Flow'rs of Art Clear as a beautiful transparent Skin Which never hides the Blood yet holds it in Like a delicious Stream it ever ran As smooth as Woman but as strong as Man Bacon himself whose Universal wit Does admiration through the World beget Not more his Age's Ornament is thought Nor has more credit to his Country brought While Fame is young too weak to fly away Envy pursues her like some Bird of Prey But once on wing then all the dangers cease Envy her self is glad to be at peace Gives over weary'd with so high a flight Above her reach and scarce within her sight He to this happy pitch arriv'd at last Might have look'd down with Pride on Dangers past But such the frailty is of Humane Kind Men toil for Fame which no Man lives to find Long rip'ning under ground this China lies Fame bears no Fruit till the vain Planter dies And Nature tir'd with his unusual length Oflife which put her to her utmost strength So vast a Soul unable to supply To save her self was forc'd to let him die ON THE DEATH Of the LEARNED Mr. JOHN SELDEN So fell the Sacred Sybill when of old Inspir'd with more than Mortal Breast cou'd hold The gazing Multitude stood doubtful by Whether to call it Death or Extasie She silent lies and now the Nations find No Oracles but the Leaves she left behind Monarch of Time and Arts who travel'd'st o're New Worlds of Knowledge undescry'd before And hast on Everlasting Columns writ The utmost Bounds of Learning and of Wit Had'st thou been more like us or we like thee We might add something to thy memory Now thy own Tongues must speak thee and thy Praise Be from those Monuments thy self did'st raise And all those Titles thou did'st once display Must yield thee Titles greater far than they Time which had Wings till now and was not known To have a Being but by being gone You did arrest his Motion and have lent A way to make him fixt and permanent Whilst by your Labours Ages past appear And all at once we view a Plato's year Actions and Fables were retriev'd by you All that was done and what was not done too Which in your Breast did comprehended lye As in the Bosom of Eternity You purg'd Records and Authors from their rust And sifted Pearls out of Rabinick dust By you the Syrian Gods do live and grow To be Immortal since you made them so Inscriptions Medals Statues look fresh still Taking new Brass and Marble from your Quill Which so unravels time that now we do Live our own Age and our Forefathers too And thus enlarg'd by your discoveries can Make that an Ell which Nature made a Span. If then we judge that to preserve the State Of things is every moment to create The World 's thus half your Creature whilst it stands Rescu'd to memory by your Learned Hands And unto you now fearless of decay Times past owe more than Times to come can pay How might you claim your Country's just applause When you stood square and upright as your Cause In doubtful times nor ever would forego Fair Truth and Right whose Bounds you best did know You in the Tow'r did stand another Tower Firm to your self and us whilst jealous Power Your very Soul imprison'd that no thought By Books might enter nor by Pen get out And strip'd of all besides left you confin'd To the one Volume of your own vast Mind There Vertue and strict Honour past the Guard Your only Friends that could not be debarr'd And dwelt in your Retirement arm'd with these You stood forth more than Admiral of our Seas Your Hands enclos'd the Watry Plains and thus Was no less Fence to them than they to us Teaching our Ships to conquer while each fight Is but a Comment on those Books you write No foul Disgraces nor the worst of things Made you like him whose Anger Homer sings Slack in your Country's Quarrel who adore Their Champion now their Martyr heretofore Still with your self contending whether you Cou'd bravelier suffer or cou'd bravelier do We ask not now for Ancestors nor care Tho Selden do nor Kindred boast nor Heir Such worth best stands alone and joys to be To th' self at once both Founder and Posterity As when old Nilus who with bounteous flows Waters an hundred Nations as he goes Scattering rich Harvest keeps his Sacred Head Amongst the Clouds still undiscovered Be 't now thy Oxford's Pride that having gone Through East and West no Art nor Tongue unknown Laden with Spoils thou hang'st thy Arms up here But set'st thy great Example every where Thus when thy Monument shall it self lie dead And thy own Epitaph no more be read When all thy Statues shall be worn out so That even Selden should not Selden know Ages to come shall in thy Vertue share He that dies well makes all the World his Heir R. B. T. Co. Oxon. Decemb. 19. 54. AGAINST Immoderate GRIEF TO A young LADY weeping AN ODE In Imitation of CASIMIRE By Mr. YALDEN. COu'd mournful Sighs or floods of Tears prevent The ills unhappy Men lament Cou'd all the anguish of my