Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A44451
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The victory of death, or, The fall of beauty a visionary Pindarick-poem, occasion'd by the ever to be deplor'd death of the Right Honourable the Lady Cutts / by Mr. John Hopkins.
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Hopkins, John, fl. 1700.
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1698
(1698)
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Wing H2750; ESTC R18839
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17,357
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97
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bend Low wond'rous low confus'd they fall And in thick Night descend Down round a spacious gloomy Grove beneath Close set with aged Cypress Trees Which each with shiv'ring Horror sees With flutt'ring Wings their Iourney past Disorderly they light at last Amaz'd they view the dismal Grove Unlike the Scenes they view'd above Ah! far unlike the Bowr's of Love With trembling Eyes they look within And down agast they totter all Depriv'd of Voice depriv'd of Breath They find these Mansions are the Courts of Death No Ray of their bright God can here Amidst this solid Gloom appear Their melancholy Thoughts to chear As interposing Bodies cloud his radiant Light So is their Lustre here eclips'd by Death's oreshadowing Night VI. Above their head they view the Forrest bare Ill-boding Birds instead of Leaves they see Sit croaking on their tops and cov'ring every Tree The horrid Groans of Ghosts invade The shatt'ring Branches and molest the shade Murmurs and Sighs make all the Breezes there The Musick which the Goddess Death delights alone to hear Thro' all the Vale no blooming Plant appears The deadly Soil nought but rank Poysons bears And ev'n those unripen'd lye Scatter'd beneath the Trees and dye Here hoary Winter reigns thro' all the Year Spread ore with Tombs and Graves the spacious Field Does a vast Crop of Death and dire Destruction yield So dread a Burthen does it bear Such weighty Monuments of Pomp are there The Vale resounds thro'out with Moans And streams of Blood opprest with Bones Instead of softer Murmurs make complaint in Groans VII Within the awful Grove a Temple stands Long built by Fate 's unalterable Hands Round is its shape four Iron Gates appear To let in all for all must enter here Not in one posture do they ever stand But as the dreadful Goddess please They open or they shut with ease Whene'r she lifts her sacred Wand Or only beckons with a bloody Hand Old Age and Pains are Porters to the Doors And Goddess Death they make the whole Creation yours The Gates with putrid Rust are overspread And all besmear'd with Blood of Lovers dead The more the rusty Iron crumbles down The Gates are still the stronger grown Their Wickets of themselves clap to and open fast And flakes of clotted Gore they throw Off with their aged Rust below Thus by their own decay they do for ever last VIII Death's Servants all in black appear The Liv'ry of their Queen they wear And mournful black the Walls of those Apartments bear Here pitchy Tapers cast their Shades And a thick Wreath of Smoak in Clouds ore all the Temple spreads The Goddess self behind her gloomy Shrine Does her grim Head upon her Arm recline Behold two Images before her stand The greatest mortal Beauty here Upon her left does pale appear The greatest mortal Warriour on the other hand Above her Head Diseases bear Her bloody Crown all flaming in the Air. Dark is her Shrine her Crown alone Glares with a glim'ring Dread and lights her sultry Throne IX No precious Stones within this Crown are worn But fixt at top a Scull it bore Oreflowing with black putrid Gore And dire discolour'd sulph'rous Flame does all its Parts adorn Diseases hov'ring ore her Throne Infected by each other tumble down Fast does the one upon the other drop And by their Fall the tott'ring Crown they prop. Faint to their Goddess each arrives Her pale wan Lips they flutter ore Her blasting Breath does all their Pains restore And thus ev'n Death it self revives X. Behold the Images are nearer plac't And now the Goddess sets them close at last See Florimena ore the Head May of the lovely female fair be read In Characters of black that Name is understood See ore the other's Head a Name Renown'd ore all the Coasts of Fame Behold 't is character'd in Blood 'T is glorious CUTTS her Noble Lord Who ev'n in gloomy shades of Death shall ever be ador'd XI Heavens How the awful Goddess stares Behold her fiery Eyes see how their Lightning glares See what a storm of sulphrous Breath she pours Reluctant Fires and rowling Smoak From her wide Iaws in flashes broke See see towards the Fair she moves Blasts all her happy Days her tender Hours Blasts with the noysome Breath which from her came The purest light of Passion 's sacred Flame And blasts her Hero's fondest Loves XII Behold her Scepter dread with Iron rust Whose pond'rous Load none else can bear No longer lies beneath her Throne Death's Scepter buried deep in Dust Aloft with pain she lifts and shakes in Air. Inrag'd she pounds on Carcasses and Bones Distorted Looks in Flashes fly Her very Scepter trembles and her Crown Sway'd by the Weight seems tott'ring down And now the frowning Goddess swells and groans As if her self ev'n Death her self would dye The lovely loving Images she parts Heaves up her Scepter now relents And strait the threaten'd stroak repents But soon again her Rage does glow She leaps and bounds and strikes the Blow The very Image of the Hero starts Loud on her own dread Name Death proudly calls Heavens Now the stroak is giv'n and Florimena falls XIII This must be all but visionary Dream Which thus my Thoughts thro' Indigestion frame This killing Object cannot be A Death which makes me almost dye to see This wild Chimaera but in fancy lyes 'T is then but fancy too that Florimena dyes Fancy Alas Too well I know Whate'r against my Soul may flow My willing Mind would never fancy so Not all the Rage of cruel War The mighty Hero's Soul could move Now mark his Thoughts behold they jar 'T is worse than Death not Life he loses but he loses Love XIV And now another Scene appears Death's Temple opens and within The dreadful bloody Altar's seen To which the lovely Corps her Priestess bears Off rings of Skulls and Bones she brings The sacred Load into the Flame she flings And the great Conquest of her Monarch sings The eager Flames the Prey destroy The ghastly Priestess grins a Smile Pleas'd with the Ruin of the charming Pile And the Fire crackles with excess of Ioy. The sacred Altar where the Priestess stood Still blushes for her Crime while she grows drunk with Blood XV. The Monster Death is blind we know She had not else us'd Florimena so See see the beauteous Charmer lyes And in the Flames expires A Sacrifice to Death she 's made While yet no living Off'ring to great Love she paid To Love who mourns his now extinguish'd Fires Hark thro' the Courts of Death a dismal sound In hollow voice does from all sides rebound Hark Florimena is the Name Swiftly the Noise in Ecchoes flyes The Ecchoes fainter the lov'd Noise proclaim And ev'n the very Name of Florimena dyes Rise Muses rise your flight prepare Quit the black Mansions of this Realm of Night Prepare make haste prepare your flight And cut the upper Air. Now Florimena does your Labours claim I 'll raise