Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	bear_v	die_v	sin_n	6,507	5	5.1003	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A37001	New poems, consisting of satyrs, elegies, and odes together with a choice collection of the newest court songs set to musick by the best masters of the age / all written by Mr. D'Urfey.; Poems. Selections	D'Urfey, Thomas, 1653-1723.	1690 (1690)	Wing D2754; ESTC R17889	58,210	230

rudely dar'st my Rights invade And cloud Love's brighest Lustre with thy shade With barbarous Power act a lawless Guest And Rape a Virgin from her Nuptial Feast The sharpest Bolt in Heaven with fatal speed My eager Rage should dart upon thy head Mo. Raging in vain thou idly spendst thy breath Dost thou not know reward for Sin is Death Since Primitive offence Hymen for Sin I own But ah why should she Perish that had none The sweet Aspatia was all purity Mors. Was not the sweet Aspatia born to dye Hym. Tho Nature's Tribute once she were to pay Could it be due upon her Wedding-day A time when Rapture the pleas'd Sense controuls And spritely Joy kept Revels in their Souls When Vesta fond of her dear Charge to me Had just giv'n up her beauteous Votary A sacred Mould for a blest Progeny At such a time when Love did brightest shine When Life was dear to force her to resign Was cruelty fit for no Breast but thine Mo. These Arguments how vainly you employ You are a Friend but I sworn Foe to Joy At the wide door of Luxury I wait And summon there the least prepar'd to fate An envious Pleasure does my Breast o'erflow To dash their sweetest draughts of Life with wo So when the haughty Syrian Monarch crown'd His swelling Bowls in Gulphs of Pleasure drown'd When Consecrated Vessels were not free From the wild Law of his Impiety When thoughtless Epicures swoln with excess And wanton Women charm'd his Soul with bliss The fatal Hand upon the Wall was plac'd Subscribing that short moment for his last Hym. Why nam'st thou tha● or Syria's Monarch here Death as reward of Sin was proper there His ill spent days obtain'd to long a date Spotted with Crimes and mellow'd for his fate But sweet Aspatia guiltless from her birth Divinely liv'd an Angel upon Earth Mors. Merrit extreme but with a Mortal date Hym. All worth is Mortal with remorseless fate A charming Grace did all her Actions guide A sacred Virtue never soil'd with Pride A saint-like Piety a pitying Heart An uncorrupted Beauty without Art Humble as Cottage Girls yet awful too Kidn to distress and to all Merrit true Devout as Angels singing Hymns on high Yet spite of all their Graces Mo. Born to dye Hym. If these could not thy Avarice o'er-come Thou might'st take more to swell the mighty sum Her graceful Modesty her mighty Wit The one delightful as the other great And then for Patience and blest Charity None e'er her equal knew Mo. Yet born to dye Hym. Not only dye but in her blooming Age To feel the Curse of thy extremest Rage A double Death did her dear Life pursue Of Beauty first and then of Nature too Vile Schelliton that wouldst not Pity shew But where no Flesh is how should Pity grow Were thy Soul form'd of any thing but spite Or all the contra●ies of soft delight Those Eyes late blinded with disease so foul With pointed Beams had shot thee to the Soul Mo. That was one Reason why I quench'd their fire Her Wit and Beauty did so far aspire Even Death had else been fool'd into desire Pity had warm'd my Breast to let her live And Female Charms had purchas'd a Reprieve Had not resenting Ghosts o'er whom I Reign All murmuring at a thought so strange so vain Declar'd in the Grand Council of my State Pity was fit for any thing but Fate Hym. And Fate more fit for any thing than Love Henceforth aloud in every-shady Grove Where harmless Lovers pretty Garlands wove The Swains and Nymphs Aspatia's Obsequies Shall sing with heavy Hearts and weeping Eyes Aspatia's hapless Fate each Breast shall sway Aspatia's story shall wear out the day Satyrs shall range from their obscure Abode Vice shall grow ●amous Marriage out of mode And till by warrant from the Deity Hymen has power to alter Fate 's decree Of this great wrong he 'll ne'er cease to complain Nor ever tye the genial Knot again An ODE To my much honored Friend Sir THOMAS GARRARD Baronet upon his Climacterical YEAR I. THE famous old Prophet that twenty years toil'd To write us the Psalms that dunce Hopkins has spoil'd In giving account of the Ages of Men Has strangely confin'd us to Threescore and Ten He tells us to scare us his last hour is near That enters the sad Climacterical Year II. Then welfare the Man that inspir'd by good Wine Cares neither for Seventy nor seven times Nine Whose jolly brisk Humor adds sands to his Glass And standing upright can look Fate in the ●ace That makes much of Life but when Nature is due Declines like a Flower as sweet as he grew To his fair Example and Grandeur of Soul Let each in his order Carouse a full Bowl Whatever dull Gown men or Sages may think There 's no Man grows old till he ceases to drink Then Health to Sir Thomas and that he may be As well as sixscore as at sixty and thre●● The KING'S Health A CATCH Sung in Parts I. NOW Second Hannibal is come O'er frozen Lakes and mounts of Snow To found our Faith on conquer'd Rome And give Proud France a fatal Blow II. Well may our Phaebus disappear And set his Glory in the Sea If Planets of a lower Sphere Can give us greater light than he III. Fryars and Monks and all those bald-pate Fools With Wafers Oyntments Beads and Shams Pardons and Antichristian Bulls Must yield to Belgick battering Rams IV. Infallibility is gone And Judges of Dispensing Powers That had thier Country quite undone Was ever known such Sons of Whores V. Drink all around then by consent Health to the Monarch of the Land The Queen and healing Parliament Pledge me six Bumpers in a hand And when the Jesuits you see Dangling upon the Triple Tree Fill up six more and sing with me A Plague on senseless Popery A Letter written by the Author for a Friend to one in Town being a SATYR on DINGBOY and a Rampant WIDOW 1685. ABroad when Dingboy's Verses came And in the Scrowl you read my Name Too well my dearest Friend I know You blush'd as much as I do now Not that you thought my scanty Crimes Had not deserv'd Satyrick Rhimes But that I should a Subject be For th' Pen of such a Dunce as he Whose empty Noddle still takes pains Without a dram of Sense of Brains To make my Fame about the Town As black and ugly as his own Nature a signal shame has meant To the Obstinate and Ignorant And Dingboy above all Mankind The Curse of his own Vice does find 'T is plague enough to be a Fool Wretchedly Poor and Proud as Dull To aim at Wit and Writing well And yet not have the sence to spell To give the Noble Art abuse By daring to invoke a Muse. This one would think were shame enough If Block-heads e'er could taste Reproof But he as if the Genius fled From th' barren Soyl of such a Head Still plunges on and

Religion in their kind From Schisms false Doctrine and Ambition free And pride the darling Sin of poor Mortality XXII Here ere the Lawns with Summer blessings crown'd Pleas'd with their lusty Health they nimbly bound ' Free from the Weathers wild ingrateful storms The trembling Hares sit quiet in their Forms Sweet smelling Panthers of whose Spots we read In modern Pamphlet here may welcome feed But yet no Baptist Boar nor foaming Bear can graze Nor one Immortal Hind in all the Place XXIII When the great General with Victorious Sword Thrice happy Englands best of Kings restor'd When Crouds were to Obedience forc'd to bow And old Rebellions Giant-head lay low The mighty Genius of this God of War Big with his Merit did this Place prepare And smiling on him with an awful Grace Spoke thus Thou wondrous Man rest here in Peace XXIV Here let thy glass of Life in quiet run And let the World admire what thou hast done Thou that from Chaos didst to order bring Dissenting Crowds that shuffled out the King And when black gathering Clowds of Mischief grew Too dark for any but thy Eyes to view That all the jarring parts thy power might know Spak'st loud let there be Light and it was so XXV This said the Genius bow'd his awful head And at his Feet the conquer'd Trophies laid From hence a Series of new Years ran on Till throng'd with Time this great triumphant Man Like some tall lofty Pine with blessings crown'd Sunk with his mellow Glories to the ground Leaving behind a Theme far more sublime Than e'er agen will grace succeeding Time XXVII Sir still in you we the old Hero see The same true Courage and true Loyalty The Father of his Country does return You in a Phenix rising from his Urn Whose stedfast Faith no Interest could sway So well his Heart had taught him to obey To serve his Prince all Dangers would run o'er Dreading to stormy Sea nor no inhospitable shore XXVII Yet tho this Sir on Duties score you do Reason advises to be cautious too When from high Towers you see the dazling height 'T were direct madness to precipitate Hard is the Game you long have had to play Many would have you go and more to stay To keep you here still wish your faithful Friends But Og would have you gone for his own ends XXVIII Projecting Og by you like Taper snuft Like Spider now with innate Venom puft A Bulk sincere but there 's no Faith in that For all Men are not honest that are fat This Age by a new jugling Fallacy Fattens those most who best can Cheat and Lye Who with next Heir at Law would trust his health Or who a bloated Bancrupt with his wealth XXIX To Fame and Truth your Soul did ever bend The bravest Man is still the truest Friend Heaven its best Graces to your Heart disclos'd There all the Elements so well compos'd That no unruly Passion dares aspire Not too much Earth nor yet too little Fire But in your Bosom form'd all gently move You shew at once the Eagle and the Dove XXX Forgive me Sir that I these Truths relate And believe Flattery is a thing I hate The Courtier 's Gloss to varnish his dull Speech Could I have flatter'd well I had been Rich A well form'd Parasite's an Art so dear I might have got three hundred Pound a year That now can boast no greater Wealth my due Than a good Character from such as You. XXXI And rich I am in that may then your years Rowl on with Joy and may you know no Cares May bounteous Plenty bless you with her Store And all the teeming Western Mines with Ore May Spicy Breezes cool the parching Air That no hot Ray presume t' offend the Fair And in a happy hour may England boast She can win back the Treasure she has lost Mr. HAINE●'s Second Recantation A PROLOGUE intended to be spoken by him dress'd in a Turkish habit MY Reconversion Sirs you heard of late I told you I was turn'd but not to what The truth disguis'd for Cause best known to me But now what really I am you see In vain did English Education work My Faith was sixt I always was a Turk Besides my rambling Steps ere I came home Constantinople reach'd as well as Rome And by the Mufti who nice Virtue priz'd For being so Circumspect was Circumcis'd 'T is true I did endeavor to refuse That dam'd old silly Custom of the Iews Because I was asham'd of being shown I was too plump a Babe an Infant too well grown But they would finish what they had begun So between Turk and Iew my Jobb was done I wish the promis'd blessing may appear I 'm sure I bought Religion plaguy dear For to be free I greater Danger ran Of being an Eunuch than a Musselman But Constancy takes strangly in that Place My manly Suffering won the Peoples Grace I gain'd their Hearts their chiefest Secrets saw We whor'd and got Drunk contrary to Law I had five Wives thank the dear Prophet for it A Black a Blew a Brown a Fair a Carrot And by the way 't is worth your Observation To note the sollid Wisdom of that Nation Wives are like Spannels there and when ye marry You need but whistle Wife must fetch and carry A pretier Custom if I understand Than 't is in England here where they Command The Ladies here may without Scandal shew Face or white Bubbies to each Ogling Beau But there close veil'd not one kind Glance can fall She that once shews her Face will shew ye all Wits there are too but Poet there 's but one A huge unweildy jarring Lute and Tunn That spite of all my Parts the Laurel won Not for his skill in Satyr or in Lyricks Or for his humble Stile in lofty Panegyricks Or the rare Images that swell his Noddle But sitting up and Joking o'er a Bottle His Patron 's Wit still as his own is us'd Yet never had a Friend but he abus'd What is his own has neither Plot nor Soul Nor ever one good thought but what he stole Eating not Writing is his proper Function Supper 's his Sacrament his Extreme Unction Like Whores condemn'd that free themselves from Chains He pleaded for 't his Belly I my Brains But Poet Belly routed Poet Haines Missing this Post I get into the Wars But finding quickly there 's were real jars Not liking that robust Confusion there Sneak'd off in time to get Commission here Well knowing that what ever wrongs are righting You London Blades have wiser ways than fighting FINIS Books Printed for Abel Roper at the Bell near Temple-Bar 1. A Weeks Exercise preparatory towards the Reception of the Holy Communion Dedicated to the Princess of Denmark by W. W. 2. Life and Reign of Innocent the Eleventh late Pope of Rome Books Printed for John Bullord at the Old Black Bear in St. Paul's Church Yard 1. A Critical History of the Text of the New Testament Wherein is firmly Establish'd the Truth of those Acts on which the Foundation of Christian Religion is laid By R. Simon Priest 2. A View of the true Interest of the several States of Europe since the Accession of their Present Majesties to the Imperial Crown of Great Britain Also shewing the many Advantages of a strict Union in Opposition to the Unjust Usurpations and False Pretensions of the French King Both quarto * Snetonius writes of Augustus that he was not only an extraordinary lover of the ingenious Authors of that Age but also an excellent Poet himself he once writ a bitter Satyr against a Poet who durst return no answer only saying Periculosum est in e●m scribere qui potest proscribere * A Cant amongst Gamesters signifying a Cheat. * Marcus Aurelius Antoninus was Sirnamed Philosophus not only for his knowledge but also practice of Philosophy and was observed to have often in his Mouth that speech of Plato Tunc florent Respublicae quando Philosophus Regit vel Rex Philosophatur † This Emperor was also very Eloquent and a good Poet as Martial testifies of him vid. his Epigram of him lib. 11. Epig. 6. Quanta quies placidi tanta est facundia Nervae * 'T is reported of him that Augustus once earnestly desiring him to sing was deny'd * To the Eighteen penny Gallery † To the Pit * Puts on a great Peruke * Pulls of a Peruke and claps on a broad Hatt * Alluding to an old erroneous Opinion of the Ancients that the Ash not bearing her yearly Keys as accustom'd boded Revolutions of State or the distress or death of some great Prince or Monarch † Porgne the Wife of Tereus turn'd into a Swallow ‖ I●ys her Son turn'd into a Pheasant * K. Charles II. * London * The Church * Porcia * A Spanish Wreck found and a vast Treasure taken up from the bottom of the Sea and lately brought home * A short Character of New-Hall his Grace's House in Essex * Stroking his Mustaches