Selected quad for the lemma: day_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
day_n	fair_a	night_n	rain_n	5,430	5	10.9395	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A19943	A poetical rapsody containing, diuerse sonnets, odes, elegies, madrigalls, and other poesies, both in rime, and measured verse. Neuer yet published. The bee and spider by a diuerse power, sucke hony' & poyson from the selfe same flower.	Davison, Francis, 1575?-1619?	1602 (1602)	STC 6373; ESTC S113564	68,412	238

kill desire This was the marke at which I shot so fast Vnto this height I did aspire Proud Loue now do thy worst and spare not ●or thee and all thy shafts I care not What hast thou left wherewith to moue my minde What life to quicken dead Desire 〈◊〉 count thy words and oathes as light as winde I feele no heate in all thy fire So change thy bow and get a stronger So breake thy shafts and buy thee longer ●n vaine thou bait'st thy hooke with beauties blaze In vaine thy wanton Eyes allure These are but toyes for them that loue to gaze I know what harme thy lookes procure ●ome strange conceit must be deuised Or thou and all thy skill despised Scilicet asserui iam me fugíque catenas Being scorned and disdained hee inueighs against his Lady SInce iust disdaine began to rise And cry reuenge for spitefull wrong What erst I praisde I now despise And thinke my Loue was all too long I tread in durt that scornefull pride Which in thy lookes I haue descride Thy beautie is a painted skin For fooles to see their faces in Thine Eyes that some as Starres esteeme From whence themselues they say take light Like to thee foolish fire I deeme That leades men to their death by night Thy words and othes are light as winde And yet farre lighter is thy minde Thy friendship is a broken reede That failes thy friends in greatest neede Vitijs patientia victa est ODE XIIII The Tombe of dead Desire WHen Venus saw Desire must die Whom high disdayne Had iustly slaine For killing Truth with scornefull Eye The Earth shee leaues and gets her to the skie Her golden hayre shee teares Blacke weedes of woe shee weares For helpe vnto her father doth shee cry Who biddes her stay a space And hope for better grace To saue his life shee hath no skill Whom should shee pray What doo or say But weepe for wanting of her will Meane time Desire hath tane his last farewell And in a Meddow faire To which the Nymphs repayre His breathles Corps is laid with wormes to dwell So Glory doth decay When Death takes life away When Morning Starre had chafde the night The Queene of Loue Lookt from aboue To see the Graue of her delight And as with heedfull Eye shee viewd the place Shee spide a flower vnknowne That on his graue was growne ●n stead of learned Verse his Tombe to grace If you the Name require Hearts-ease from dead Desire An Altare and Sacrifice to Disdaine for freeing him from loue My Muse by thee restor'd to life To thee Disdaine this Altare reares Whereon she offers causlesse strife Self-spending sighs and bootlesse teares Long Sutes in vaine Hate for Good will Still-dying paine Yet liuing still Selfe-louing pride Lookes coyly strange Will Reasons guide Desire of change And last of all Blinde Fancies fire False Beauties thrall That bindes desire All these I offer to Disdaine By whome I liue from fancie free With vow that if I loue againe My life the sacrifice shall bee Vicimus dominum pedibus calcamus amorem ANOMOS Certaine other Poems vpon diuerse Subiects by the same Author Three Odes translated out of Anacreon the Greeke Lyrick Poet. ODE I. OF Atreus Sonnes faine would I write And faine of Cadmus would I sing My Lute is set on Loues delight And onely Loue sounds eu'ry string Of late my Lute I alt'red quite Both frets and strings for tunes aboue I sung of fierce Alcides might My Lute would sound no tune but Loue Wherefore yee worthles all farewell No tune but Loue my Lute can tell ODE II. THe Bull by nature hath his hornes The Horse his hooues to daunt their foes The light-foot Hare the hunter scornes The Lions teeth his strength disclose The Fish by swimming scapes the wee le The Bird by slight the fowlers net With wisedome Man is arm'd as steele Poore women none of these can get What haue they then faire Beauties grace A two-edg'd Sworde a trusty Shielde No force resists a louely face Both fire and sworde to Beautie yielde ODE III. OF late what time the Beare turnd round At midnight in her woonted way ●nd men of all sorts slept full sound ●'re come with labour of the day The God of Loue came to my dore ●nd tooke the ring and knockt it hard ●ho's there quoth I that knocks so sore ●ou breake my sleepe my dreames are marde A little boy forsooth quoth hee Dung-wet with raine this Moonelesse night With that mee thought it pittied mee I ope the dore and candle light And straight a little boy I spide A winged Boy with shaftes and bow I tooke him to the fire side And set him downe to warme him so His little hands in mine I straine To rub and warme them therewithall Out of his locks I crush the raine From which the drops apace downe fall At last when he was waxen warme Now let me try my bow quoth hee I feare my string hath caught some harme And wet will proue too slacke for mee Hee said and bent his bow and shot And wightly hit me in the hart The wound was sore and raging hot The heate like fury rekes my smart Mine host quoth he my string is well And laugh't so that he leapt againe Looke to your wound for feare it swell Your heart may hap to feele the paine Anacreons second Ode otherwise NAture in her worke doth giue To each thing that by her doth liue A proper gift whereby shee may Preuent in time her owne decay The Bull a horne the horse a hoofe The light-foote hare to run aloofe The Lyons strength who may resist The birds aloft flie where they list The fish swimmes safe in waters deepe The silly worme at least can creepe What is to come men can forecast And learne more witt by that is past The womans gift what might it bee The same for which the Ladies three Pallas Iuno Venus straue When each desired it to haue T. S. Anacreons third Ode otherwise CVpid abroad was lated in the night His Wings were wett with ranging in the raine Harbour hee sought to mee hee tooke his flight To dry his plumes I heard the Boy complayne I opte the doore and granted his desire I rose my selfe and made the Wag a fire Prying more narrow by the fiers flame I spide his Quiuer hanging at his backe Doubting the Boy might my misfortune frame I would haue gone for feare of further wracke But what I feard did mee poore wretch betide For forth hee drew an Arrow from his side Hee pierst the quicke and I began to start A pleasing wound but that it was too high His shaft procurde a sharpe yet sugred smart Away hee flew for now his wings were dry But left the Arrow sticking in my Brest That sore I greeue I welcom'd such a Guest R. G. THe lowest Trees haue tops the Ante her gall The flie her splene the little sparkes their heate The slender haires

endure Thine cold and so thy wealth procure Hot mine are still And so do kill ●oth flower and roote with most vnkindely dew What Sun or Winde A way can finde ●he roote once dead the flowers to renew Thou though the scorching heate of Summer Sun While ill-breath'd Dog the raging Lyon chaceth ●ay peckled flower do make of colour dun ●nd pride of all thy greeny haire defaceth And in thy moysture-wanting side Deepe wounds do make and gashes wide Yet as thy weate By Phoebus heate ●o turne to wholsome drynesse is procured So Phoebus heate By south-winds weate Is soone asswaged and all thy wounds recured Such heate as Phoebus hath me almost slaine As Phoebus heate al● no farre worse then his It is Astreas burning-hot Disdaine That parched hath the roote of all my blis That hath alas my youth defaced That in my face deep wounds hath placed Ah that no Heate Can dry the weate The flowing weate of my still-weeping Eies Ah that no weate Can quench the heate The burning heate within my Hart that lies Thou dost poor Earth beare many a bitter stound While greedy Swaines forgetting former neede With crooked plowes thy tender backe do wound With harrowes biting teeth do make thee bleede But earth so may those greedy Swaines With pitteous Eye behold thy paines O Earth tel mee When thou dost see Thy fruitfull Back with golden Eares beset Doth not that ioy Kil all annoy And make thee all thy former wounds forget And I if once my tired Hart might gaine The Haruest faire that to my faith is due I once I might ASTREAS grace regaine ● once her hart would on my sorrows rue Alas I could these plaints forgo And quite forget my former wo. But O! to speake My Hart doth breake ●●r all my seruice faith and patient minde A crop of greefe Without releefe ● crop of scorne and of contemp● I finde ●one as the Shepheards Star abroad doth wend Nights harbinger to shut in bright-some Day ●nd gloomy Night on whom black clouds attend ●oth Tirant-like through skie vsurpe the sway Thou art poore Earth of Sunne depriued Whose beames to thee all Ioy deriued But when Aurore Doth ope her Dore ●er purple dore to let in Phoebus waine The night giues place Vnto his race ●nd then with ioy thy Sun returnes againe 〈◊〉 would my Sunne would once returne againe 〈◊〉 turne and driue away th' infernall night 〈◊〉 which I die since she did first refraine ●er heauenly beames which were mine only light In her alone all my light shinde And since she shinde not I am blinde Alas on all Her beames doe fall Saue wretched me whome she doth them deny And blessed day She giues alway To all but me who still in darkenesse lie In mournefull darkenesse I alone doe lie And wish but scarcely hope bright day to see For hop'd so long and wisht so long haue I As hopes and wishes both are gone from mee My night hath lasted fifteene yeeres And yet no glimpse of day appeeres O do not let Him that hath set His ioy his light his life in your sweete Grace Be vnrelieu'd And quite depriu'd Of your deere sight which may this night displace Phoebus although with firy-hoofed steedes Thou daily doe the steepy Welkin beate And from this painefull taske art neuer freed But daily bound to lend the world thy heate Though thou in fiery Chariot ride And burning heate thereof abide Yet soone as night Doth dim the light And hale her sable Cloake through vaulted skie Thy iournie 's ceast And thou doost rest In cooling waues of Tethis soueraigntie Thrice happy Sun whose pains are eas'de by night O haplesse I whose woes last night and day ●y paines by day do make me wish for night ●y woes by night do make me cry for day By day I turmoyle vp and downe By night in Seas of teares I drowne O painefull plight O wretched night Which neuer findes a morne of ioyfull light O sad decay O wretched day That neuer feeles the ease of silent night ●e chirping Birds whose notes might ioy my minde If to my minde one drop of ioy could sinke Who erst through Winters rage were almost pinde ●nd kept through barren frost from meat or drinke A blessed change yee now haue seene That changed hath your woefull teene By day you sing And make to ring ●he neighbour groues with Eccho of your Song In silent night Full closely dight ●ou soundly sleepe the bushes greene among ●ut I who erst ah woefull worde to say ●nioy'd the pleasant spring of her sweete grace ●nd then could sing and dance and sporte play ●nce her fierce anger did my Spring displace My nightly rest haue turn'd to detriment To plaints haue turn'd my wonted meriment The Songs I sing While day doth spring Are bootlesse plaints till I can plaine no more The rest I taste While night doth last Is broken sighes til they my hart make sore Thou flowret of the field that erst didst fade And nipt with Northerne cold didst hang the head Yee Trees whose bared bowes had lost their shade Whose with'red leaues by western blasts were she● Yee gin to bud and spring againe Winter is gone that did you straine But I that late With vpright gate Bare vp my head while happy fauour lasted Now olde am growne Now ouerthrowne With wo with griefe with wailing now am wasted Your springing stalke with kindly iuice doth sprou● My fainting legs do waste and fall away Your stretched armes are clad with leaues about My griefe-consumed armes do fast decay Yee gin againe your tops lift vp I downe to earth-ward gin to stoope Each bowe and twig Doth waxe so big That scarce the rinde is able it to hide I so do faint And pine with plaint That slops and Hose and Galage wax too wide Eccho how wel may she that makes me mone By thy example learne to rue my paine Thou hear'st my plaintes when as I waile alone And wailing accents answerest againe When as my brest through greefe I beate That wofull sound thou dost repeate When as I sob And hartly throb A dolefull sobbing sound againe thou sendest And when I weep And sigh full deep A weepy sighing Voice againe thou lendest But ah how oft haue my sad plaints assaide To pierce her Eares deafe only vnto mee How oft my Woes in mournfull inke arraide Haue tride to make her Eies my griefe to see And you my Sighs and Teares how often Haue ye sought her hard hart to soften And yet her Eye Doth still denie For all my Woes one bitter teare to shed And yet her Hart Will not impart One harty sigh for griefe her self hath bred Nor I alas do wish that her faire Eyes Her blessed-making Eies should shed a teare Nor that one sigh from her deere Breast should rise For all the paines the woes the wrongs I beare First let this weight oppresse me still Ere shee through mee taste any ill Ah if I might But gaine

or with angry frownes refuse to take them Or taking them the fires fewell make them Or with those hands made to a milder end These guiltlesse leaues all into peeces rend O Cruell Tyrant yet beloued still Wherein haue I deseru'de of you so ill That all my loue you should with hate requite And all my paines reward with such despight Or if my faulte be great which I protest Is only Loue too great to be exprest What haue these Lines so harmelesse innocent Deseru'd to feele their Masters punishment These Leaues are not vnto my fault consenting And therefore ought not haue the same tormenting When you haue read them vse them as you list For by your sight they shall be fully blist But till you reade them let the woes I haue This harmelesse Paper from your fury saue Cleere vp mine eyes drie your selues my Teares And thou my Harte bannish these deadly feares Perswade thy selfe that though her harte disdaine Either to loue thy loue or rue thy paine Yet her faire Eyes will not a booke denie To this sad Story of thy Miserie O then my Deere behold the Portraiture Of him that doth all kinde of woes endure Of him whose Head is made a Hiue of woes Whose swarming number dayly greater growes Of him whose Sences like a Racke are bent With diuerse motions my poore soule to rent Whose Minde a Mirrour is which only showes The ougly Image of my present woes Whose Memorie 's a poyson'd Knife to teare The euer-bleeding wound my Breast doth beare The euer-bleeding wound not to be cured But by those Eyes that first the same procured And that poore Harte so faithfull constant true That only loues and serues and honours you Is like a feeble Ship which torne and rent The Mast of Hope being broke and tackling spent Reason the Pilot dead the Starres obscured By which alone to saile it was enured No Porte no Land no Comfort once expected All hope of Safety vtterly neglected With dreadfull terror tumbling vp and downe Passions vncertaine waues with hideous sound Doth daily hourely minutely expect When either it should runne and so be wreckt Vpon Despaires sharpe Rocke or be o'rethrowne With Storme of your Disdaine so fiercely blowne But yet of al the woes that doe torment my hart Of all the Torments that do dayly rent my hart There 's none so great although I am assured That euen the least can not bee long endured As that so many weekes nay months nay yeares Nay tedious Ages for it so appeares My trembling Hart besides so many anguishes Twixt hope feare vncertaine howerly languishes Whether your hands your Eyes your Hart of stone Did take my lines and reade them and bemone With one kind word one sigh one pittying teare Th'unfained griefe which for your loue I beare Whether y'accepted that last Monument Of my deere Loue the Booke I meane I sent To your deare selfe when the respectlesse winde Bare me away leauing my hart behinde And daigne sometimes when you the same do view To thinke on him who alwayes thinks on you Or whether you as Oh I feare you doo Hate both my selfe and Giftes and Letters too I must confesse that when I do consither How ill alas how ill agree together So peerelesse beautie to so fierce a minde So hard an inside to so faire a rinde A Hart so bloody to so white a brest So proud disdaine with so milde lookes supprest And how my deere Oh would it had beene neuer Accursed word nay would it might be euer How once I say till your Hart was estranged Alas how soone my day to night was changed You did vouchsafe my poore Eyes so much grace Freely to viewe the Riches of your face And did so high exalte my lowly Hart To call it yours and take it in good part And which was greatest blisse did not disdaine For boundlesse loue to yeeld some loue againe When this I say I call vnto my minde And in my Harte and Soule no cause can finde No fact no word whereby my Hart hath merited Of your sweete loue to be thus disinherited Dispaire it selfe cannot make mee dispaire But that you 'le prooue as kinde as you are faire And that my lines booke O would t were true Are though I know 't not yet receiu'de by you And often haue your cruelty repented Whereby my guiltlesse Heart is so tormented And now at length in liew of passed woe Will pitty grace and loue and fauour shoe But when againe my cursed Memory To my sad thoughts confounded diuersly Presents the time the teare procuring time That wither'd my yong Ioyes before their prime The time when I with tedious absence tired With restlesse loue and rackt desire inspired Comming to finde my Earthly paradise To glasse my sight in your two heauenly Eyes On which alone my Earthly Ioyes depended And wanting which my ioy and life were ended From your sweete Rosie lippes the springs of blisse To draw the Nectar of a sweetest Kisse My greedy Eares on your sweete wordes to feede Which canded in your sweetest breath proceede In daintiest accents through that Currall dore Guarded with pretious Pearle and Rubies store To touch your Hand so white so moist so soft And with a rauisht kisse redoubled oft Reuenge with kindest spight the bloody theft Whereby it closely mee my Hart bereft And of all blisse to taste the Consummation In your sweete gracefull heauenly Conuersation By whose sweet charms the soules you do inchaunt Of all that doo your louely presence haunt In stead in all these Ioyes I did expect Found nought but frownes vnkindnes and neglect Neglect vnkindnes frownes nay plaine contempt And open Hate from no disdaine exempt No bitter words side lookes nor aught that might Engreeue encrease so vndeseru'd despight When this I say I thinke and thinke withall How nor those showers of Teares mine Eies let fall Nor winde of blustring Sighes with all their force Could moue your rocky Heart once to remorce Can I expect that letters should finde grace Or pitty euer in your harte haue place No no I thinke and sad Dispaire sayes for mee You hate disdaine and vtterly abhorre mee Alas my deere if this you doe deuise To try the virtue of your murthering Eyes And in the Glasse of bleeding harts to vew The glorious splendour of your Beauties hew Ah trie it trie it on rebellious sprights That doe withstand the power of sacred lights And make them feele if any such be found How deepe and curelesly your Eyes can wound But spare O spare my yeelding Hart and saue Him whose cheefe glory is to be your slaue Make mee the matter of your Clemencie And not the subiect of your Tyrannie ODE IIII. Being depriued of her sweete lookes wordes and gestures by his absence in Italie he desires her to write vnto him I. MY onely starre Why why are your deere Eyes Where all my life's peace lies With me at warre Why to my Ruine tending Do