Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	admire_v	fame_n	great_a	48	3	2.1033	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A53640	Ovid's Tristia, containing five books of mournful elegies which he sweetly composed in the midst of his adversity, while he liv'd in Tomos, a city of Pontus, where he died after seven years banishment from Rome / translated into English by W.S.; Tristia. English	Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D.; W. S.	1672 (1672)	Wing O694; ESTC R9375	63,329	119

offended Caesars Majesty ELEGIE XI To his wise ' cause some did her defame And call her wife to a banish'd man THy Letter which thou sendst me doth complain That some one call'd thee wise to a banisht man I griev'd not that my life is ill spoke by Who now have us'd to suffer valiantly But that I am a cause of shame to thee And I think thou blushest at my misery Endure thou hast suffered more even for my sake When the Princes wrath me from thee first did take He 's deceiv'd who calleth me a banish'd man My fault a gentler punishment did attain Our ship though broke is not o'rewhelm'd or drown'd It bears up still though it no Port hath found My life my wealth my right he doth not take Which I deserv'd to lose for my faults sake To offend him was a punishment far more I wish my funeral hour had gone before But because no wickedness was in my fault To banish me he only fittest thought As to those whose numbers cannot reckon'd be So Caesar's Majesty was milde to me Therefore my verses by right as they may O Caesar do sing forth thy praise alway I beseech the Gods to shut up Heavens Gate And let thee be a God on earth in state But thou that call'st me thus a banisht man Encrease not my sorrow with a feigned name ELEGIE XII To his friend who wish'd him to delight Himself while he did verses write THou writ'st that I should pass the time away With study lest my mind with rust decay 'T is hard my friend verse is a merry taske And it a quiet mind doth always aske Our fate is droven by an adverse wind No chance more sad than mine can be assign'd Thou wouldst have Priam at his sons death jest And Niobe dance as it were at a feast Ought I to study or else to lament That alone unto the farthest Getes am sent Give me a breast with so much strength sustain'd Such as Anytus had as it is fam'd So great a weight would sink his wit at length Joves anger is above all human strength That old man which Apollo wise did call In such a case would not have wit at all Though I forget my Country and my self And have no sense at all of my lost wealth To do my office fear doth me forbid Being compass'd in with foes on every side Besides my vein grows dull being rusted o're And now it is far lesser than before The field if that it be not daily till'd Will nothing else but thornes and knot-grass yield The Horse having long stood still will badly run And be last of those that from the Lists do come The boat that hath long out of water been Grows rotten and the chinks thereof are seen Then hope not I that had an humble vein Can e're return like to my self again My wit by my long suffering is decay'd And part of my former vigour now doth fade Sometimes my Tables in my hand I take And I my words to run in feet would make I can write no verses but such as you see Fitting the place and their Authours misery And lastly glory gives strength to a strain And love of praise doth make a fruitful vein I was allur'd with hope of fame before While as a prosperous wind my sails out bore But now in glory I take not delight I had rather be unknown if that I might Because that some my verse at first did like Would'st thou have me therefore proceed to write May I speak it with your leave you sisters nine You chiefly caus'd this banishment of mine As the maker of the Bull in it did smart So I am also punish'd by my Art And now with verse I ought for to have done And being shipwrack'd I the sea should shun Suppose that study I should again assay This place is unfit for verses any way Here are no books nor none to lend an ear Nor none can understand me if they hear All places here both rude and wilde are found And filled with the fearful Getick sound I have forgot in Latine for to speak And I have learnt the language of the Gete Yet to speak truth I cannot so restrain My Muse but sometime she a verse will frame I write and then I burn those books again And thus my study endeth in a flame I cannot make a verse nor do desire Which makes me put my labour in the fire No part of my invention to you came But that which was stole or snatch'd from the flame And would that Art too had been burnt for me Which brought the Authour unto misery ELEGIE XIII Here he doth accuse his friend Because he did no letters send FRom the Gettick Land thy Ovid sends thee heath If one can send what he doth want himself For my mind from my body infected is Lest my part of me should torment miss A pain in my side me many days doth hold Which I had gotten by the winters cold If thou art well then we in part are well For thou didst under-prop me when I fell Thou gav'st me many pledges of thy heart And did'st defend me still in every part 'T is thy fault that Letters thou dost seldome send Thou performed'st deeds deny'st words to thy friend Pray mend this fault which if you shall correct In thee alone there will be no defect I would accuse thee more but it may be Thy Letter being sent came not to me May this complaint of mine seem rash and hot May I falsely think that thou hast me forgot Which as I pray for I am sure to find For I can ne're believe thou hast chang'd thy mind Gray worm-wood shall in the cold sea be scant And Sycilian Hybla shall sweet hony want E're thou in remembring of thy friend grow slack The threds sure of my fate are not so black And that thou may'st avoid so foule a crime What thou art not beware thou do not seem And as we were wont to pass the time away With some discourse till we had spent the day Let Letters carry and fetch back our words While hands and paper tongues to us affords But lest I seem too distrustful for to be And that these few lines may admonish thee Take my Farewel which word doth Letters end And may fortune better fates unto the send ELEGIE XIV Ovid shews his wife that she Shall by his books immortal be WHat a memorial my books give to thee Thou Wife more dearer than my self mai'st see Though fortune from their Authour do detract Yet by my wit thy fame shall be exact While I am read thy fame shall too be read Which cannot in the funeral fire lie dead And though thou seem'st unhappy by my fate Yet some shall wish to be in thy estate Who ' cause thou bearst part of my misery May call thee happy and may envie thee By giving riches thou no more hadst got Since the rich-mans ghost from hence doth carry nought But I have given thee fame that still shall last The greatest gift that I could give thou hast And ' cause thou dost defend me in my trouble This maketh honour come upon the double For that my voice doth ever mention thee Thy husbands love may still thy glory be And lest some call thee rash abide to the end Both me and thy faith see that thou defend For while we stood thou only didst maintain Thy goodness free from any fault or blame Which is not ruin'd by this fault of mine Thy vertue now may make thy works to shine 'T is easie to be good when we remove All occasions that may make wives not to love But in thunder if the shower she do not shun Such affection doth true marriage-love become Rare is that love which fortune doth not guide But when she flies away doth firm abide If vertue a reward to any be Shewing most courage in adversity Thy vertue in no age shall be conceal'd But through the world admired and reveal'd Thou seest Penelope doth still retain For constancy an unextinguish'd name Admetus and brave Hectors wife are sung And Hiphias wife that into fire did run The Phylacean wife by fame new life hath found Whose husband first set foot on Trojan ground I do not need thy death shew love to me And thence thou shalt get fame most easily Nor think I exhort thee cause that thou dost fail Though the ship go with oares we put on sail He that exhorts doth praise what thou dost do And by exhorting doth his liking show FINIS