Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
cause_n	death_n	know_v	life_n	2,879	5	4.5653	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A84403	An alphabet of elegiack groans, upon the truly lamented death of that rare exemplar of youthful piety, John Fortescue, of the Inner-Temple, esquire / By E.E.	Elys, Edmund, ca. 1634-ca. 1707.	1656 (1656)	Wing E658; Thomason E885_2; ESTC R207316	5,602	16

AN ALPHABET OF Elegiack Groans UPON The truly lamented Death of that Rare Exemplar of Youthful Piety JOHN FORTESCVE Of the Inner-Temple Esquire By E. E. Chronogram DIes MortIs CharIor est nataLe 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 London Printed for Tho. Heath in Russel-street near the Piazza's of Covent-Garden 1656. AN ALPHABET OF Elegiack Groans ELEG I. ALas why sigh I thus why do mine eyes Bubble up sorrow at these obsequies Such outward symptomes of my grief are smal My soul weeps inward at his Funeral That Anguish lurks in secret whose dread smart Wrought into th' Bottom undermines the Heart Tears then adieu only heart-blood can be Convenient drops for such an Elegie I 've lost Half of my Soul Strange Fates that give To one thus spirit-wounded power to live My OTHER I is dead Could Atrop sever Two thus made one so jointly knit together Unless by cutting both Oh no! his Death Hath wrastled out my Life though not my Breath But what shall I confine to mine own Brest This common grief of which the World s possest A springing Cedar's faln so fair so tall That all our Hearts are earthquak'd at his Fall Which was so strangely sudden as his Rise To such Perfections was it doth surprise Us with Amazement that our Faces be Badg'd with that Mark of Grief Stupiditie 'T would seem to ease our sorrows could we raise Our words so high as to compleat his Praise But this we cannot do unless we could Form our rough Brains in so exact a mould As that from them might flow in Teary shoures So many Volumes as He lived houres Yet this we must confess his Parts so rife Made him far fitter for his death than life Earth scarcely knew them for like Stars they were Less in her eye ' cause unto Heav'n more neere He was God's Hidden Treasure no Mans eye View'd all those Riches which in 's soul did lie God now has tane him to his proper place But wresting out the Gem He th broke the Case Yet 't will be made agen by sacred Art The fit Enclosure of his better Part. Why then lament we at his Funerall Ah! though he fell not yet he seems to fall Just like a Star that 's darted through the sky Which seems to fall because it shuns our eye But that our Eyes have lost their dearest sight May Tears conveigh them to the shades of Night My soul oreflows with grief so full's my Thought That like a Bubble it is swolne to nought I 'm grown so stupid that by silence I Can only speak so vast Calamity ELEG II. BE not my Lines Poetick let them Faign That carry sorrow not in Heart but Brain My waters of Affliction or'eflow The Banks of Helicon I cannot show My solid grief in Verse no Muses wing Can bear the weight of my soul-suffering Sad groans and sighs are here articulate These only these can signifie such Fate For when the Sisters Three so throw their Darts They fill each corner of our trembling Hearts With helpless anguish that there be no room To hatch such words as may set forth our Doom What then what shall we do Grief streitly pent Swells up the bigger Pufft Hearts break or vent Shall Fates like Cutters which mens Fortunes drain Thus stop our mouths that we should not complain Ah! though our Tongues be ty'd yet shall our Eyes Drop down Expression of our Miseries ELEG III. COme on Eye-flouds apace 't is ease to weep Those wounds need washing which are struck so deep Least that they putrifie men in distress Made blinde with tears do see their grief the less O doleful Tragedies which mortals finde Shut up within the closet of their minde Where Appetite with Will is discontent The one would not the other must lament So they distractions raise within our Brest And we our selves give to our selves no Rest We joy and mourn and mourn and joy again Now there is Sun-shine then Tempestuous Rain We joy that he 's in Heav'n agen we mourn And wish our selves composed in his Urn. Thus are our Thoughts revolv'd as tho there were No fixed Object which might stay them here Now He is gone who was that Rising Sun Which did attract each Exhalation Of our endeared Hearts like Phaebe He Seems to these eyes of Flesh ecclips'd to be ' Cause our inferior sight of Him 's bereaven By interposed Earth 'twixt us and Heaven Where now He 's firmly seated and shall be A Son of Light to all Eternitie ELEG IV. DEad oh and were mine Ears then made to be A Labyrinth t' inclose mine Agonie Which through their winding caverns let in pain Into my soul ne're to go out again Farewell if He be dead farewell our joyes On sordid Earth farewell those charming toyes The world affords And it shall henceforth be Our Life to think upon Mortalitie Blest Saint that art at rest now flown above The reach of Fate by th'wings o' th' Heav'nly Dove Pardon oh pardon if our teary eyes Bemoan not thine but our own Obsequies Who daily die and which still makes us grieve There 's nothing in us but our Deaths doth live Thy Death is dead not thou O may we then Once die like thee that we ne're die agen ELEG V. EMbleme of Vertue from whose Noble eye Heroick Height mixt with Humilitie Shone forth a peerless Paradox whose soul Divinely big swells out of that weak scroul Which it involv'd So us our griefs compell That since thou went'st to Heav'n Earth seems our Hell And this is our due portion for 't is just That we should faulter with these Clogs of Dust Until Gods love the true Prometheus Fire Our Earthen Hearts shall blessedly inspire By whose ascendent vertue we may be Like Thee rais'd up to Immortalitie ELEG VI. FAith is so weak it cannot see His Joyes or our perplexitie Oh! we have drunk in so much Gall That now we have no Taste at all Black Sorrows wrapt up in a Mist May whiffle us now where they list And like Hob-goblins they conspire To lead our thoughts into the Mire Of stupid anguish where we finde Nought else but that w'have lost our Mind But ah what Friendship is in this That we do so deplore his bliss O tell us not of that our Tears Have like their cause his Death no Ears ELEG VII GReat in true Goodness Rich in Mind As well's in Lands and Birth we find No Epithite fit to set forth The full Encomium of his worth His Youth was Ag'd with Piety Which seem'd of such antiquity That whosoever knew it would Conceit Him in his Nonage Old Er'e He could look abroad to see The Worlds enticing Vanitie God fixt His Eyes on things above Which straight way took his chiefest love And so on Earth of Earth bereaven He hovered 'twixt it and Heaven Fond Ranters shallow Gallantry He rightly judg'd meer slavery To Tyrant Sin Streight-living He Enlarg'd his Soul to Sanctitie Each day he thought upon his last And now at length