Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
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A18731
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The epitaph of Sir Phillip Sidney Knight, lately Lord Gouernour of Floshing
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Churchyard, Thomas, 1520?-1604.
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1586
(1586)
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STC 5228; ESTC S104978
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4,034
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10
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becam As he had bin the Lords eleckt â and made a chosen Lam. His countnaunce gaue a gladsome grace â with manly pleasant showe To all that did beholde his face â or would his fauour knowe His learned speach had force to breake â the thick and hardest yce And looke what toÌgue and mouth did speake â the mind held most in price In prime of youth Embastor sent â to Emprour farr from hence And wan such credite where he went â that made him honord sence Ranne faire at Tilt like Mars his Sonne â with couched Launce on brest And good report of people won â that passed all the rest A man made out of goodliest mould â as shape in waxe were wrought Or Picture stoode in stampe of gold â to please each gazers thought An Heire in déede of great accoumpt â whose hope great hap might haue Yet muck made neuer mynd to mount â for ought that Fortune gaue His silent lookes sayd wisedome great â did lodge in loftie brow His patient heart in chollers heate supprest all passions throw His inward gifts could closely shroude â in humble courties cheere As Phoebus hid his head in Cloude â to shine at length more cleere A portly presence passing fine â with beautie furnisht well Where vertues buds and grace deuine â and daintie gifts did dwell Well seene and read in diuers Artes â his works they shewe the same Well trauayld to in sondrie partes â to purchase péerelsse Fame Brought home both language lawde and lore â might y e Lawrell weare And crownd with Garland be therefore â and style of Honor beare In Conscience cause and Countries care â to bloodie warres he went Where loe on murthering Shot vnware â alas his life he spent To farre he ventred for renowne â to short he made his skope To soone that stately stalke fell downe â in whom was such great hope To late this world will warned bee â to quick comes our dispatch To blind is dazeled eyes to see â where Death for life doth watch Though manhood runnes in Armor gay â where great exployts haue bin Yet courage casts more men away â then all the world can win For Sidneis sake O wicked Shot our natiue Countrey cryes Yea though his death great glorie got â and Fame thereby doth rise In wretched earth and Tombe God wot â his worthie bodie lyes Who left behinde by heauie lot â a world of weeping eyes But chiefly Prince and publick weale â who waies his worth a right A secret sigh or two they steale â in thinking on this Knight He feard no death when one did craue â if he would dye or no Yet wisht some longer life to haue â if God were pleased so First to amend his life he sought â a respite for a space To purge his Soule that Christ had bought â and therby purchase grace Next only for Religions sake â he crau'd a yere or two Before from world he leaue did take â that he some good might do And last of all for Common weale â he wisht a while to liue That to the honor of our state â he might some councell giue Oh what desire was this of his â from whence came that great minde Was euer heauenlier thing then this â brought forth of humaine kinde No no the Pearle of precious price â is lost or stolne away The head where dwelt each deepe deuice â will here no longer stay His trends and kindred wring their hands â and heauie hearted goe His wayling wife like Image stands â and cannot speake for woe His Seruants shake their heads and say â as men orecome with rage Where is our Maister and our stay â in this hard haples age His Sisters life consumes away â like Snow against the Sunne His Brethren ban that dismoll day â when his short race was runne His Soldoiurs dolefull Dromme doth sound â march in mourning sort And trayles the Ensigne on the ground â in signe of sad La mort But with exchaunge all chaunges goe â for life comes death in place For ioy comes payn for wealth comes woe â for woe grief comes grace So leaue his Soule where saeftie is â embraest in Abrahams brest There let him sléepe with endles blis â that here could take no rest FINIS