Selected quad for the lemma: cause_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A62987
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Miscellanea sacra, or, Poems on divine & moral subjects collected by N. Tate ...
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Tate, Nahum, 1652-1715.
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1696
(1696)
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Wing T195; ESTC R22340
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36,916
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174
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frown'd upon my Birth Nor to this Hour allows one Minute's Mirth Yet still I 'm flatter'd with deceitful Air That always says to Morrow shall be fair No Morrow yet has darted one kind Ray But still proves darker than the former Day The ruffling Winds oftimes disturb the Main But soon the Billows grow compos'd again No Leaves in Winter on the Grove are seen Which yet the next Spring Cloaths with fresher Green When sudden Storms eclipse the Morning's Light Those once dispers'd the Day returns more bright My gloomy Thoughts no Interval can find The Tempest always rages in my Mind My Sighs are all the Musick I employ My Sighs are all the Musick I enjoy With these I pass the tedious Night away With these I pass the yet more tedious Day My Friends 't is true their Counsel oft address Advise me oft to make my Sorrows less I took their Council gave to Mirth the Rein Mirth only brought more sharp Returns of Pain For when my Griefs with Laughter I 'd beguile Tempestuous Sighs destroy'd the Infant Smile And when I try to Sleep my Griefs to Rest Their Crys fright from my Door the gentle Guest Ye Streams and Groves my long frequented Seats Ye Rocks Caves my Sorrows last Retreats You know how oft my Groans in vain supprest Have with recoiling Fury torn my Breast While Eccho gentle sharer of my Woe Returns a Sigh to ev'ry Sigh I throw Here Progne do's her mournful Story tell Answer'd by sadder Notes of Philomel Each in her Turn renews the doleful Strain While Halcyons from the distant Shoars complain With these the Turtle joins eternal Moan Like me she mourns and murmurs all alone Thus Fate do's cruelly my Life prolong Of all my suffrings Life the greatest Wrong Out of Hermannus Hugo I Charge you O Daughters of Jerusalem if ye find my Beloved that ye tell him I am sick of Love Cant. 5. 8. YE happy souls of Heavenly Salem's Race Whose snowy Feet the Azure Temples grace You you I charge attend my sacred Strain If ye by chance shou'd find my Love again Tell him I Languish with a Fire unknown As Iasmins saint beneath th' Assyrian Sun For ' midst the Darts he lately scatter'd round He fell himself a Shaft and I a Wound At least his own Blood ting'd the pointed Steel ' For I more His than my own Sufferings feel Ah! with what fires was then my Soul possest As if whole Aetna heav'd within my Breast If he 's inquisitive as Lovers are And should enquire of each particular Talk all the Forms of Languish and Distress Which Pain forbids the Sufferer to express He 'll ask if I am Feaverish tell him No My Spirits are too weak my Pulse too low He 'll ask if danger of my Life appears Tell what your Eyes discover not your Ears Tell him you bid me speak whilst my faint breath Imported nothing but the signs of Death Perhaps he 'll ask you how I did appear What Looks and what my other symptoms were This or like This let your Description be That he my danger with its Cause may see A pale a frightful trembling Ghost I lye Condemn'd O Fate neither to live nor dye I pant and struggle for my hovering Breath Labouring for either perfect Life or Death With heavy Eyes that sink in gloomy Shade My faint Right hand within my Bosom laid No rosy Colours no young Native heat No Pulse tho' touch'd can be perceiv'd to beat A floud of Tears wash my faint Life away And dying Sighs to him my Soul convey Whilst in these sad Complaints I still admire To feel I burn yet know not what 's the fire Unless 't is Love which doth these Passions move For every accent of my Pain is Love From hence I find from hence proceeds my flame I know not Love but yet a Lover am Love made my Plaints so loud my Sighs so deep Love taught my unexperienc'd Eyes to weep From hence th' Abruptness of my Language came That I could utter nothing but his Name This in these words Let my Beloved hear That I fond of my pain his Fetters bear Tell him I burn with such a gentle fire As Roses in the Summers heat expire Tell him that I with long Desires decay As hoary Lillies droop and fade away I charge ye tell him I am sick of Love And my last Sickness tell him it will prove ON EASTER-DAY By an unknown Hand 1. HArk Sure I hear Urania play I hear her tune the heavenly Strings Some wondrous Tidings sure she brings Oh! now methinks I hear her say The Sun of Rightcousness To day Must break must rise must come away With Healing on his Wings 2. 'T is done behold the God appear Fulfilling all that he hath said Captivity is Captive led Death of his old invenom'd Spear Behold disarm'd and conquer'd here The Grave no more the Members seat Since risen is the Head 3. In vain the silly Rabbins strove A Stratagem of Force to find The Lord Omnipotent to bind Too weak to stop Almighty Love Their Guards their Stone their Seal must prove The trembling Earth doth all remove Like Dust before the Wind. 4. Let ransom'd Men in Praises vie Let every faithful Soul rejoice And tune to Angels Notes his Voice Hail Son of David let them cry Hail Thou that Livest and didst Dye That list'st thy glorious Seat on high And Sufferings mad'st thy Choice 5. Unfold ye Everlasting Gates That Guard the great Iehovah's Towers Those Sacred My stick Leaves of yours The King of Glory for you waits Receive him O ye blissful Bow'rs Ye Thrones Dominions Sceptred Powers He comes accomplish'd are the Hours Appointed by the Fates 6. Be now thy Foes thy Footstool made Exalted high on God's Right-hand A Priest for ever mayst thou stand Thy dear Redeeming Blood to plead Th' imperfect Sacrifice to aid Which is by wretched Man convey'd And never must be scann'd A Preparation to PRAYER By the same Hand 1. LET no bold Prayer presume to rise Let no unhallowed Incense go A fruitless Progress through the Skies Whilst here thy Heart remains below Thy Heart adorn'd in all its best desires Thy Father kindly courts thy awful God requires 2. Think with what Reverence and State Thy Maker is ador'd Above What mighty Beings round him wait And pay their Worship and their Love That Cherubims are in his Sight afraid And with enfolded Wings their glorious Faces Shade 3. How must that Guardian Angel grieve That to attend thy Soul is sent Such cold Petitions to receive As his warm Zeal can ne'er present How must he grieve thy empty Forms to see In Spirit and in Truth his God must worshipt be 4. How will it swell thy final Cares How will it all thy hopes defeat To see thy Sins increas'd by Prayers Which only could their force abate How can'st thou hope t' escape those foreign Harms Who thus against thy self turn'st thy defensive Arms GOLD is try'd in the Fire