Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A20823
|
Idea the shepheards garland Fashioned in nine eglogs. Rowlands sacrifice to the nine Muses.
|
Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631.
|
1593
(1593)
|
STC 7202; ESTC S105396
|
21,894
|
76
|
vvhen he seeth him take his foode and yet his chaps can chevv no hay at all Borrill euen so it fareth novv vvith thee And vvith these vvisards of thy mysterie Borrill Sharpe is the thorne full soone I see by thee bitter the blossome vvhen the fruite is sovver And early crook d that vvill a Camock bee rough is the vvinde before a sodayne shovver Pittie thy vvit should be so vvrong mislead And thus be guyded by a giddie head Ah foolish else I inly pittie thee misgouerned by thy lewd brainsick will The hidden baytes ah fond thou do'st not see nor find'st the cause which breedeth all thy ill Thou think'st all golde that hath a golden shew And art deceiu'd for it is nothing soe Such one art thou as is the little flie who is so crowse and gamesome with the flame Till vvith her busines and her nicetie her nimble vvings are scorched vvith the same Then fals she dovvne vvith pitteous buzzing note And in the fier doth sindge her mourning cote Batte Alas good man I see thou ginst to raue thy vvits done erre and misse the cushen quite Because thy head is gray and vvordes been graue Thou think'st thereby to dravv me from delight What I am young a goodly Batcheler And must liue like the lustie limmeter Thy legges been crook'd thy knees done bend for age and I am svvift and nimble as the Roe Thou art ycouped like a bird in cage and in the field I vvander too and froe Thou must doe penance for thy olde misdeedes And make amends vvith Auies and vvith creedes For al that thou canst say I will not let for why my fancie strayneth me so sore That day and night my minde is wholy set on iollie Loue and iollie Paramore Only on loue I set my whole delight The summers day and all the winters night That pretie Cupid little god of loue whose imped wings with speckled plumes been dight Who striketh men below and Gods aboue Rouing at randon with his feathered flight When louely Uenus sits and giues the ayme And smiles to see her little Bantlings game Vpon my staffe his statue will I carue his bowe and quiuer on his winged backe His forked heads for such as them deserue and not of his an implement shall lacke And Uenus in her Litter all of loue Drawne with a Swanne a Sparrow and a Doue And vnder him Thesby of Babylon and Clcopatra somtime of renovvne Phillis that died for loue of Demophôon Then louely Dido Queen of Carthage towne Which euer held god Cupids lawes so deare And been canoniz'd in Loues Calendere Borrill Ah wilfull boy thy follie now I finde and hard it is a fooles talke to endure Thou art as deafe euen as thy god is blinde sike as the Saint sike is the seruiture But wilt thou heare a good olde Minstrels song A medicine for such as been vvith loue ystong Batte Borrill sing on I pray thee let vs heare that I may laugh to see thee shake thy beard But take heede Borrill that thy voyce be cleare or by my hood thou'lt make vs all afeard Or els I doubt that thou wilt fright our flockes When they shall heare thee barke so like a foxe Borrill Oh spight full way ward wretched loue VVoe to Venus which did nurse thee Heauens and earth thy plagues do proue Gods and men haue cause to curse thee Thoughts griefe hearts woe Hopes paine bodies languish Enutes rage sleepes foe Fancies fraud soules anguish Desires dread mindes madnes Secrets be wrayer natures error Sights deceit sullens sadnes Speeches expence Cupids terror Malcontents melancholly Liues slaughter deaths nurse Cares slaue dotards folly Fortunes bayte worlds curse Lookes theft eyes blindnes Selfes will tongues treason Paynes pleasure wrongs kindnes Furies frensie follies reason VVith cursing thee as I began Cursing thee I make an end Neither God neither man Neither Fayrie neither Feend Batte Ah worthy Borrill here's a goodly song now by my belt I neuer heard a worse Olde doting foole for shame hold thou thy tongue I would thy clap were shut vp in my purse It is thy life if thou mayst scolde and braule Yet in thy words there is no wit at all And for that wrong which thou to loue hast done I will aueng me at this present time And in such forte as now thou hast begonne I will repeat a carowlet in rime Where Borrill I vnto thy teeth will proue That all my good consisteth in my loue Borrill Come on good Batte I pray thee let vs heare Much will be sayd and neuer a vvhit the near Batte Loue is the heauens fayre aspect loue is the glorie of the earth Loue only doth our liues direct loue is our guyder from our birth Loue taught my thoughts at first to flie loue taught mme eyes the way to loue Loue raysed my conceit so hie loue framd my hand his arte to proue Loue taught my Muse her perfect skill loue gaue me first to Poesies Loue is the Soueraigne of my will loue bound me first to loyalty Loue was the first that fram'd my speech loue was the first that gaue me grace Loue is my life and fortunes leech loue made the vertuous giue me place Loue is the end of my desire loue is the loadstarre of my loue Loue makes my selfe my selfe admire loue seated my delights aboue Loue placed honor in my brest loue made me learnings fauoret Loue made me liked of the best loue first my minde on vertue set Loue is my life life is my loue loue is my whole felicity Loue is my sweete sweete is my loue I am in loue and loue in me Borrill Is loue in thee alas poore sillie lad thou neuer couldst haue lodg'd a worser guest For where he rules no reason can be had so is he still sworne enemie to rest It pitties me to thinke thy springing yeares Should still be spent with woes with sighes with teares Batte Gramercy Borrill for thy company for all thy iestes and all thy merrie Bourds I still shall long vntill I be with thee because I find some wisdome in thy words But I will watch the next time thou doost ward heard And sing thee such a lay of loue as neuer shepheard THE EIGHTH EGLOG. Good Gorbo of the golden world and Saturns raigne doth tell And afterward doth make reporte of bonnie Dovvsabell Motto SHepheard why creepe we in this lowly vaine as though our muse no store at all affordes Whilst others vaunt it with the frolicke swayne and strut the stage with reperfumed wordes See how these yonkers raue it out in rime who make a traffique of their rarest wits And in Bellonas buskin tread it fine like Bacchus priests raging in franticke fits Those mirtle Groues decay'd done growe againe their rootes refresht with Heliconas spring Whose pleasant shade inuites the homely swayne to sit him dovvne and heare the Muses sing Then if thy Muse hath spent her wonted zeale with Iuie twist thy temples shall be crownd Or
IDEA THE SHEPHEARDS GARLAND Fashioned in nine Eglogs ROWLANDS SACRIFICE to the nine Muses Effugiunt auidos Carmina sola roges Imprinted at London for Thomas Woodcocke dwelling in Pauls Churchyarde at the signe of the black Beare 1593. TO THE NOBLE AND VALEROVS GENTLEMAN MASTER ROBERT DUDLEY ENRICHED WITH ALL VERTVES OF THE MINDE AND WORTHY OF ALL HONORABLE DESERT Your most affectionate and deuoted Michael Drayton THE FIRST EGLOG. VVhen as the ioyfull spring brings in the Summers sweete reliefe Poore Rowland malcontent be wayles the winter of his griefe NOw Phoebus from the equinoctiall Zone Had task'd his teame vnto the higher spheare And from the brightnes of his glorious throne Sends forth his Beames to light the lower ayre The cheerfull welkin comen this long look'd hower Distils adowne full many a siluer shower Fayre Philomel night-musicke of the spring Sweetly recordes her tunefull harmony And with deepe sobbes and dolefull sorrowing Before fayre Cinthya actes her Tragedy The Throstle cock by breaking of the day Chants to his sweete full many a louely lay The crawling snake against the morning sunne Now streaks him in his rayn-bow coloured cote The darkesome shades as loathsome he doth shunne Inchanted with the Birds sweete siluan note The Buck forsakes the launds where he hath fed And scornes the hunt should view his veluet head Through all the partes dispersed is the blood The lustie spring in flower of all her pride Man bird and beast and fish in pleasant flood Reioycing all in this most ioyfull tide Saue Rowland leaning on a Ranpick tree O'r growne with age forlorne with woe was he Oh blessed Pan thou shepheards god sayth he O thou Creator of the starrie light Whose wonderous workes shew thy diuinitie Thou wise inuentor of the day and night Refreshing nature with the louely spring Quite blemisht erst with stormy winters sting O thou strong builder of the firmament Who placedst Phoebus in his fierie Carre And by thy mighty Godhead didst inuent The planets mansions that they should not iarre Ordeyning Phebe mistresse of the night From Tytans flame to steale her forked light Euen from the cleerest christall shining throne Vnder whose feete the heauens are low abased Commaunding in thy maiestie alone Whereas the fiery Cherubines are placed Receiue my vowes as incense vnto thee My tribute due to thy eternitie O shepheards soueraigne yea receiue in gree The gushing teares from neuer-resting eyes And let those prayers vvhich I shall make to thee Be in thy sight perfumed sacrifice Let smokie sighes be pledges of contrition For follies past to make my soules submission Submission makes amends for all my misse Contrition a refined life begins Then sacred sighes what thing more precious is And prayers be oblations for my sinnes Repentant teares from heauen-beholding eyes Ascend the ayre and penetrate the skies My sorowes waxe my ioyes are in the wayning My hope decayes and my despayre is springing My loue hath losse and my disgrace hath gayning Wrong rules desert with teares her hands sits wringing Sorrow despayre disgrace and wrong doe thwart My Ioy my loue my hope and my desert Deuouring time shall swallow vp my sorrowes And strong beliefe shall torture black despaire Death shall orewhelme disgrace in deepest furrowes And Iustice laie my wrongs vpon the Beere Thus Iustice death beleefe and time ere long Shall end my woes despayre disgrace and wrong Yet time shall be expir'd and lose his date And full assurance cancell strongest trust Eternitie shall trample on deathes pate And Iustice shall surcease when all be iust Thus time beleefe death Iustice shall surcease By date assurance eternity and peace Thus breathing from the Center of his soule The tragick accents of his extasie His sun-set eyes gan here and there to roule Like one surprisde with sodaine lunacie And being rouzde out of melancholly Flye whirle-winde thoughts vnto the heauens quoth he Now in the Ocean Tytan quencht his flame And summond Cinthya to set vp her light The heauens with their glorious starry frame Preparde to crowne the sable-vayled night When Rowland from this time consumed stock With stone-colde hart now stalketh towards his flock Quid queror toto facio conuicia coelo Di quoque habent oculos di quoque pectus habent THE SECOND EGLOG. Wynken of mans frayle wayning age declares the simple truth And doth by Rowlands harmes reprooue Mottos vnbrideled youth Motto MIght my youths mirth delight thy aged yeeres My gentle shepheard father of vs all Wherewith I why lome Ioy'd my louely feeres Chanting sweete straines of heauenly pastorall Now would I tune my miskins on this Greene And frame my muse those vertues to vnfold Of that sole Phenix Bird my liues sole Queene Whose locks done staine the three times burnisht gold But melancholie grafted in thy Braine My Rimes seeme harsh to thy vnrelisht taste Thy droughthy wits not long refresht with raigne Parched with heat done wither now and waste Wynken Indeed my Boy my wits been all forlorne My flowers decayd with winter-withered frost My clowdy set eclips'd my cherefull morne That Iewell gone wherein I ioyed most My dreadful thoughts been drawen vpon my face In blotted lines with ages iron pen The lothlie morpheu saffroned the place Where beuties damaske daz'd the eies of men A cumber-world yet in the world am left A fruitles plot with brambles ouergrowne Misliued man of my vvorlds ioy bereft Hart-breaking cares the ofspring of my mone Those daintie straines of my vvell tuned reed Which manie a time haue pleasd my vvanton eares Nor svveet nor pleasing thoughts in me done breed But tell the follies of my vvandring yeares Those poysned pils been biding at my hart Those loathsome drugs of my youths vanitie Svveete seem'd they once ful bitter novv and tart Ay me consuming corosiues they be Motto Euen so I vveene for thy olde ages feuer Deemes svveetest potions bitter as the gall And thy colde Pallat hauing lost her sauour Receiues no comfort in a cordiall VVynken As thou art novv vvas I a gamesome boy Though staru'd vvith vvintred eld as thou do'st see And vvell I knovv thy svvallovv-vvinged ioy Shalbe forgotten as it is in me When on the Arche of thine eclipsed eies Time hath ingrau'd deepe characters of death And sun-burnt age thy kindlie moisture dries Thy vvearied lungs be niggards of thy breath Thy bravvne-falne armes thy camock-bended backe The time-plovv d furrovves in thy fairest field The Southsaiers of natures vvofull vvrack When blooming age must stoupe to starued eld When Lillie vvhite is of a tavvnie die Thy fragrant crimson turn'd ash-coloured pale Thy skin orecast vvith rough embroderie And cares rude pencell quite disgrac'd thy sale When dovvne-beds heat must thavve thy frozen cold And luke-vvarme brothes recure Phlebotomie And vvhen the bell is readie to be tol'd To call the vvormes to thine Anatomie Remember then my boy vvhat once I said to thee Now am I like the knurrie-bulked Oke Whome wasting eld hath made a toombe of dust Whose