Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	courage_n	young_a	youth_n	23	3	7.6841	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A30923	Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts / part I, occasionally written by Mrs. Jane Barker, part II, by several gentlemen of the universities, and others.	Barker, Jane.	1688 (1688)	Wing B770; ESTC R7698	114,866	432

13 following Copies done by Mr. Hovenden Walker sometime of Trinity-Colledge in Dublin Psalm 139. Paraphras'd from Verse 7. to Verse 13. p. 207 A Pastoral in imitation of Virgil's 2d Eclogue p. 210 The fourth Elegy of Cornelius Gallus of the Miseries of Old Age. Made English p. 219 To my Mistriss Translated out of Tibullus p. 226 The Agreement p. 228 Song p. 231 The Innocent Discov'ry p. 234 The Petition A Song p. 234 Fate A Song p. 235 My Religion p. 237 The Kiss p. 239 The Wrack A Song p. 241 To Mr. P. Berault upon his French Grammar p. 242 Song p. 245 The same Song Inverted by Mr. VValker p. 246 The Five following Copies done by Mr. C. G. of AEton-Colledge A Paraphrase on part of the 23d Idyll of Theocritus p. 247 Chorus 1. Of Seneca's Agamemnon p. 255 The Penitent p. 259 To Duserastes p. 262 The Vow p. 263 The Six following POEMS by Mr. T. B. of Cambridge An Elegy on King Charles the Second p. 265 A Dithyrambique made just before the King and Queen went to their Coronation p. 269 To their Graces the Duke and Dutchess of Albemarle upon their Voyage for Iamaica p. 280 Ovid. Amor. lib. 2. Eleg. 15. A Ring presented to his Mistriss p. 283 To Afer Martial Epig. 31. lib. 4. Made English p. 285 An Excuse for not Rhiming in the Time of the Rebellion p. 286 MISCELLANY POEMS PART II. Written by several Authors A Paraphrase on an HYMN Sung when the Corps is at the Grave By T. S. Fellow of Maudlin-Colledge Oxon. I. HOW full of Troubles is the Life of Man Vain like a bubble shorter than a span He springs and blossoms as an early Flower Whose silken Leaves the Frosts and Snow devour He like the ●leeting Shadow hastes away Unable to continue in one stay It disappears and can't survive the day II. The Noon-tide of our Life is plac'd in Death We 're not secure of one light puff of Breath To whom O God can we for succour fly But unto thee by whom we live and dye 'T is for our Sins thou dost employ this Sting Thou justly angry art our God and King But takest no delight in punishing III. O Holy Mighty Lord and Saviour Declare thy signal Mercies and thy Pow'r Condemn us not unto the pains of Hell Where Horror reigns and endless Torments dwell From whence no ransom ever can be made Since we our bless'd Redeemer have betray'd And both his Will and Laws have disobey'd IV. Thou know'st the secret Closet of our Hearts Thy divine Presence fills our secret parts Therefore be mercifull unto our Pray'r Most worthy Iudge thy wretched People spare Forsake us not when on our Death-beds thrown Lest through despair we deeply sigh and groan And Hell grow proud of the Dominion Advice to his Friends lamenting the Death of I. F. By the same Hand RIse and rejoyce all ye that Mourn Dry ev'ry Eye that weeps The Body in this hollow Urn Is not quite dead but sleeps See how the Leaves in Autumns falling Dew Forsake the weeping Tree And how the jocund Spring renews With Buds their infancie What though the Root lye under-ground The Boughs to Heav'n aspire Thus Bodies in the Grave are found The Souls are mounted higher Hark! hark I hear the Trumpet 's Voice Cry Come ye Blessed come Methinks I hear our Friend rejoyce That he is Summon'd home Now Dronish Death hath lost her Sting The Grave her Victorie For Christ in Triumph rides as King Of this great Iubilee Arise my Friends and wipe your Eyes Salvation's drawing nigh Let 's live to dye and dye to rise T' enjoy Eternity T. S. EPITAPH on Mrs. E. F. who sickned of the Small Pox and Deceased December the 31st 1686. being the Day before her intended Nuptials THis fair young Virgin for a Nuptial Bed More fit is lodg'd sad Fate among the Dead Storm'd by rough Winds so falls in all her pride The full-blown Rose design'd t' adorn a Bride Truth is this lovely Virgin from her Birth Became a constant strife 'twixt Heav'n and Earth Earth claim'd her pleaded for her either cry'd The Nymph is mine at length they did divide Heav'n took her Soul the Earth her Corps did seize Yet not in Fee she only holds by Lease With this proviso When the Iudge shall call Earth shall give up her share and Heav'n have all An EPITAPH to the Memory and fix't on the Tomb of Sir PALME FAIRBORN Governour of Tangier who in Execution of his Command was Mortally Wounded by a Shot from the Moors that then besieged the Town Octob. 24. 1680. YE Sacred Reliques which this Marble keep Here undisturb'd by Wars in quiet sleep Discharge the Trust which when it was below Fairborn's undaunted Soul did undergo And be the Towns Palladium from the Foe Alive and dead he will these Walls defend Great Actions Great Examples must attend The Candian Siege his early Valour knew Where Turkish Blood did his young hands embrew From thence returning with deserv'd applause Against the Moors his well-flesh'd Sword he 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 Heav'n his Vertues shone more bright Like rising Flames expanding in the height The Martyrs Glory crown'd the Souldiers Fight More bravely Brittish Gen'ral never fell Nor Gen'rals Death was e'er reveng'd so well Which his pleas'd Eyes beheld before their close Follow'd by Thousand Victims of his Foes An ELEGY on the Death of N. D. Doctor of Physick By I. C. WHat will my Mourning yet no period find Must sighs sorrow still distract my Mind My Sense grows ●eeble and my Reason's gone Passion and Discontent usurp the Throne With blubber'd Eyes my veiled sight grows dim Ah cruel Death cou'd you ●ind none but him To gratifie your hungry Iaws withall Or if in haste none but a Doctor 's fall Howe'er you might forbore your stroke a while But possibly you thought he might beguile Your craving Appetite of many more Which you expected to strike long before But sure my Mind 's disturb'd my Passions rav● To censure Death and quarrel with the Grave● Alas he 's bound the blow he cannot give Till his Commission shews we must not live Yet hence we learn and may this inf'rence make That if Physicians Souls their Iourney take Into a distant Climate well may Ours Then with what care ought we to spend those hours Or rather few remaining Sands which are In so much Bounty tender'd to our care The purest Druggs compos'd with greatest Skill Can't preserve Life when Death has pow'r to kill Peasant and Prince are both to him alike And with an equal blow doth either strike All must surrender when his Arm is stretch't With such a weighty force his blow is fetch 't But oh I wander from my Virtuous Friend 'T is true indeed he 's dead but yet no

Vultures or wing'd Navy flyes Under the Tropicks he is understood And brings home Rapine through a Purple Flood New Circulations found our Blood is hurl'd As round the lesser so the greater VVorld In Civil Wars he did us first engage And made Three Kingdoms subject to his rage One fatal stroke slew Iustice and the cause Of Truth Religion and our Sacred Laws So fell Achilles by the Trojan Band Though he still fought with Heav'n it self in hand Nor cou'd Domestick Spoil confine his Mind Nor limits to his fury but Mankind The Brittish Youth in Foreign Coasts are sent Towns to destroy but more to Banishment VVho since they cannot in this Isle abide Are confin'd Pris'ners to the VVorld beside No wonder then if we no tears allow To him who gave us Wars and Ruin too Tyrants that lov'd him griev'd concern'd to see There must be punishment to crueltie Nature her self rejoyced at his Death And on the Halter sung with such a Breath As made the Sea dance higher than before While her glad Waves came dancing to the shore ON THE LAST DUTCH WAR By Mr. Benjamin Willy sometime Master of the Free-School of Newark upon Trent RObb'd of our Rights and by such Water-Rats We 'll doff their Heads if they won't doff their Hats Affront from Hogen Mogen to endure 'T is time to box these Butter-Boxes sure If they the Flag 's undoubted Right deny us And won't strike to us they must be struck by Us. A Crew of Boors and Sooterkins that know Themselves they to our Blood and Valour owe. Did we for this knock off their Spanish Fetters To make 'em able to abuse their Betters If at this rate they rave I think 't is good Not to omit the Spring but let 'em Blood. Rouse then Heroick Britains 't is not Words But Wounds must work with Leather-Apron-Lords They 're deaf and must be talk'd withall alas With Words of Iron spoke by Mouths of Brass I hope we shall to purpose the next bout Cure 'em as we did Opdam of the Gout And when i' th' bottom of the Sea they come They 'll have enough of Mare Liberum Our brandish't Steel tho' now they seem so tall Shall make 'em lower than Low-Countries fall But they 'll e'er long come to themselves you 'll see When we in earnest are at Snick-a-snee When once the Boars perceive our Swords are drawn And we converting are those Boars to Brawn Methinks the Ruin of their Belgick Banners Last Fight almost as ragged as their Manners Might have perswaded 'em to better things Than to be sawcy with the best of Kings Is it of Wealth so proud they are become Charles has a Wain I hope to fetch it home And with it pay himself his just Arrears Of Fishing Tribute for this Hundred years That we may say as all the Store comes in The Dutch alas have but our Factors bin They fathom Sea and Land we when we please Have both the Indies brought to our own Seas For Rich and Proud they bring in Ships by Shoals And then we humble them to save their Souls Pox of their Pictures if we had 'em here We'd find 'em Frames at Tyburn or elsewhere The next they draw be it their Admirals Transpeciated into Finns and Scales Or which wou'd do as well draw if they please Opdam with th' Seven sinking Provinces Or draw their Captains from the conqu'ring Main F●rst beaten home then beaten back again And after this so just though fatal strife Draw their dead Boars again unto the Life Lastly Remember to prevent all Laughter Drawing goes first but Hanging follows after If then Lampooning thus be their undoing Who pities them that purchase their own Ruin Or will hereafter trust their treacheries Untill they leave their Heads for Hostages For as the Proverb thus of Women's said Believe 'em nothing though you think 'em dead The Dutch are stubborn and will yield no Fruit Till like the Wallnut-Tree ye beat 'em to 't THE LAST SAYINGS OF A MOUSE Lately Starved in a Cupboard As they were taken in Short-hand by a Zealous Rat-catcher who listned at the Key-hole of the Cupboard Door WRetch that I am and is it come to this O short continuance of Earthly bliss Did I for this forsake my Country Ease My Liberty my Bacon Beans and Pease Call ye me this the breeding of the Town Which my young Master bragg'd when he came down Fool that I was I heard my Father say A Rev'rend Mouse he was and his Beard gray Young Hunt-crum mark me well you needs must rome And leave me and your Mother here at home Great is your Spirit at high food you aim But have a care believe not lying Fame Vast Bodies oft are mov'd by slender Springs Great Men and Tables are two diff'rent things Assure thy self all is not Gold that shines He that looks always fa● not always dines For oft I 've seen one strut in laced Cloak And at th' same instant heard his Belly croak By sad experience now I find too well Old Hunt-crum was an arrant Sydrophel And must I dye and is there no relief No Cheese though I give over thoughts of Beef Where is grave Madge and brisk Grimalkin now Before whose Feet our Race was wont to bow No Owl no Cat to end my wofull days No Gresham Engine my lean Corps to squeese I 'd rather fall to Foes a noble prey Than squeek my Soul out under Lock and Key● What 's this a pissing Candles latter end My dear beloved Country-Save-all Friend Thou dreadfull Emblem of Mortality Which nothing savour'st of solidity Detested Droll'ry of my cruel Fate This shadow of a Comfort comes too late Now you my Brethren Mice if any be As yet unstarv'd in all our Family From your obscure Retreats rise and appear To your or to your Ghosts I now draw near Unto my pristine dust I hast apace Observe my hollow Eyes and meager Face And learn from me the sad reverse of Fate 'T is better to be innocent than great Good Consciences and Bellies full say I Exceed the pomp that only fills the Eye Farewell you see my friends that knew me once Pamper'd and smooth reduc'd to Skin and Bones Poor as a Church-Mouse O I faint I dye Fly fly from Cat in shape of Famine f●y VVhilst at ●y Death I my Ambition rue In this my Cupboard and my Coffin too Farewell to Victuals Greatness and to you TO THE SECRETARY OF THE MUSES A NEW-YEARS-GIFT IULIAN WIth care peruse the lines I send Which when you 've done you 'll find I am your friend I write not for Applause or if I doe who 'd value the Applause that comes from you Or from your Patrons who of late we see However they 're distinguish'd in degree Forget themselves and grow as dull as thee As often drunk as awkward in their dress Fight with thy courage Court with thy success And when their fond Impertinences fail They strait turn Satyrists and