Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A07162
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Marie Magdalens lamentations for the losse of her master Iesus
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Markham, Gervase, 1568?-1637.
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1601
(1601)
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STC 17569; ESTC S121922
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20,275
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60
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to his ceremonies too much awe I misse his sweetest selfe of far more cost Sith rather vvith the Truth I should have beene Than vvorking that vvhich but a Tipe vvas seene The Sabboth day so strickt solemnized The standing by his Coarse had not prophan'd By vvhich prophanest things are sanctified And that made pure vvhich earst vvas foulely stain'd Whose touch doth not defile the thing that 's clean But most defiled maketh faire againe But vvhen I should have staid I vvent away And vvhen it vvas too late I came againe In time of helpe Ah then my helpe did stay Now I repent my follie but in vaine My carelesse heed hath brought a heape of care And carefull I must ceaselesse teares prepare Ah let my heart into sad sighs dissolve Let eies consume their flouds in brinish teares Let soule cares captive in dislikes resolve To languish still sunke vvith despaire and feares Let all I have endure deserved paine That pennance due sins losses may regaine But ah my sweetest Iesu my deare heart Thou art not novv vvhere thou vvert but of late And yet alas I know not vvhere thou art Oh vvretched case oh lamentable state Such haplesse state unhappie I live in To better it I cannot yet begin Alas my ioy my hope my cheefe desire How hast thou left me vvavering thus in doubt In mazed moodinesse my thoughts to tire Wandering in vvoe and cannot find vvay out If I stay here I cannot find thee so To seeke elsewhere I know not vvhere to goe To leave the Tombe is for to gaine vnrest To stand still helpelesse is a curelesse paine So all my comfort in this plot doth rest Helpelesse to stay or going hope in vaine And to this choise poore soule I am left free Which is to say vvith vvhat death I vvill die And yet even this too happie a choice vvould be For me so vile so base unhappie vvretch For if to chuse my death it lay in me How soone should I that execution catch How vvilling vvould I be to stop lives breath If I might point the manner of my death I vvould be nailed to the selfesame crosse With those same nailes and in the selfesame place Where bloudie Iewes did butcher up my losse His speare should vvound my hart his thorns my face His vvhips my bodie I vvould tast all smart To tread his steps in an embrued hart But oh ambitious thoughts gaze not so hie Vpon so sweet divine felicitie Thinke not vvith such a glorious death to die Whose life is privie to such infamie Death I deserv'd not one but many a death But not so sweet a meane to stop my breath So sweet a death seasoned vvith such deepe ioy The instruments vvhereof dead corpes vvould raise And most impurest soules from sinne destroy And make it pure to yeeld thee pure due praise A scourge too much ah vvhere alas too small For my offences to be beat vvithall And therefore am I left more deaths to tast Than I live houres and far more vvoes to shun Than I have thoughts for my lost ioy to vvast Which are in number more then motes in Sun Vnhappie me vvhose vveake estate must beare The violence of such confused care But sith I cannot as he died die Nor yet can live vvhere he now liveth dead To end my dying life I here vvill lie Fast by his grave and leane my vvearie head Vpon his tombe on vvhose most sweet repose I le leave to live and death my eies shall close Better it is after his bodies losse His sacred bodie vvhich all creatures ioy'de To keepe his sepulchre from farther crosse Than loosing one to let both be destroy'de Though I have lost the Saint of clearest shine I vvill at least have care to keepe the shrine And to this shrine I le sacrifice my heart Though it be spoiled of the soveraigne host It shall the altar be and sacred part Where I my teares vvill offer vvith the most My teares destilled from my hearts deepe paine Which going out my sighs shall blow againe Here in this place oh happie place I le lead Yea lead and end my vvofull loathed life That at the least my cold grave may be made Neare to this tombe vvhere I have told my griefe Near this stone-couch my eies their light shall lose Which my Lord made the place of sweet repose It may be so this Sindon lying here Thus emptie left and serving to no use This tombe being open vvithout any there May pierce some piteous heart for to peruse My naked bones whose rights for to preferre This shroud may wrap this sweet tomb interre But oh too fortunat a lot to crave For her that is a vvretch so unfortunate No no I seeke not such a blisse to have Alas I dare not beg so good estate But yet if such a sinne may passe unblam'd I vvould forgive by vvhom it first vvas fram'd And if to vvish no more presumption vvere In me alive than to permit it dead If I knew him that first should passe me here My teares should vvoo to have my corpes so laid And vvith my praiers I that man vvould hire To blesse me vvith this blisse vvhich I desire And though I dare not vvish that anie do it Yet this vvithout offence to all I say This Sindon hath my love so ty'de unto it Above all clothes I love to it will pay And this same Tombe my heart more deare doth deeme Than anie Princes Hearse of most esteeme Yea and I thinke that coarse is favoured much That shall my Lord in this same Tombe succeed And for my part as my resolve is such Vpon this plot to meet Deaths fatall deed So doe I vvish that in the readiest grave My breathlesse bones the right of buriall have But this is all and I dare say no more My bodie I vvill leave to what befals And in this paradise all ioy vvill store For my poore soule vvhich flesh and bloud inthrals Which frō this brittle case shall passe even than Into the glorious Tombe of God and Man Marie Magdalens second Lamentation For the losse of the bodie which shee came to annoint BVt stay my Muse I feare my maisters love The only portion that my fortune left me Would languish in my breast and chillish prove Sith vvarmth to cherish it vvas quite bereft me His vvords his presence gone vvhich fed my flame And not the ashes left to rake the same My spice and ointments shall be then prepar'd To pay last tribute of externall dutie Though others have thereto devoutly car'd And brought the best in vvorth in vvorke in beautie Yet such desire my dutie doth inherit That I must yeeld my love my latest merit My love each quantitie too little deem'd Vnlesse that mine vvere added thereunto Best quantitie too meane and not esteem'd Except vvith mine it somewhat have to doe No diligence ynough for to apply Vnlesse my service be employed by Nor doe I thus sharpe censure others deeds