Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A43379
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Occasional verses of Edward Lord Herbert, Baron of Cherbery and Castle-Island deceased in August, 1648.; Poems. Selections
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Herbert of Cherbury, Edward Herbert, Baron, 1583-1648.
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1665
(1665)
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Wing H1508; ESTC R2279
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35,027
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105
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others readier are Now that he speaks are complemental speeches That never go off but below the breeches Of him he doth salute while he doth wring And with some loose French words which he doth string Windeth about the arms the legs and sides Most serpent-like of any man that bides His indirect approach which being done Almost without an introduction If he have heard but any bragging French Boast of the favour of some noble Wench He 'll swear 't was he did her Graces possess And damn his own soul for the wickedness Of other men strangest of all in that But I am weary to describe you what E're this you can As for the little fry That all along the street turn up the eye At every thing they meet that have not yet Seen that swoln vitious Queen Margaret Who were a monster ev'n without her sin Nor the Italian Comedies wherein Women play Boys I cease to write To end this Satyre and bid thee good night Sept. 1608. I must depart but like to his last breath That leaves the seat of life for liberty I go but dying and in this our death Where soul and soul is parted it is I The deader part yet fly away While she alas in whom before I liv'd dyes her own death and more I feeling mine too much and her own stay But since I must depart and that our love Springing at first but in an earthly mould Transplanted to our souls now doth remove Earthly effects what time and distance would Nothing now can our loves allay Though as the better Spirits will That both love us and know our ill We do not either all the good we may Thus when our souls that must immortal be For our loves cannot dye nor we unless We dye not both together shall be free Unto their open and eternal peace Sleep Death's Embassadour and best Image doth yours often so show That I thereby must plainly know Death unto us must be freedom and rest May 1608. Madrigal HOw should I love my best What though my love unto that height be grown That taking joy in you alone I utterly this world detest Should I not love it yet as th' only place Where Beauty hath his perfect grace And is possest But I beauties despise You universal beauty seem to me Giving and shewing form and degree To all the rest in your fair eyes Yet should I not loâ—â— them as parts whereon Your beauty their perfection And top doth rise But ev'n my self I hate So far my love is from the least delight That at my very self I spite Sensless of any happy state Yet may I not wiâ—h justest reason fear How hating hers â— truly her Can celebrate Thus unresolved still Although world life nay what is fair beside I cannot for your sake abide Methinks I love not to my fill Yet if a greater love you can devise In loving you some otherwise Believe't I will Another DEar when I did from you remove I left my Joy but not my Love That never can depart It neither higher can ascend Nor lower bend Fixt in the center of my heart As in his place And lodged so how can it change Or you grow strange Those are earth's properties and base Each where as the bodies divine Heav'ns lights and you to me will shine To his Friend Ben Johnson of his Horace made English 'T Was not enough Ben Johnson to be thought Of English Poets best but to have brought In greater state to their acquaintance one So equal to himself and thee that none Might be thy second while thy Glory is To be the Horace of our times and his Epitaph Caecil Boulser quae post languescentem morbum non sine inquietudine spiritus conscientiae obiit MEthinks Death like one laughing lyes Shewing his teeth shutting his eys Only thus to have found her here He did with so much reason fear And she despise For barring all the gates of sin Death's open wayes to enter in She was with a strict siege beset To what by force he could not get By time to win This mighty Warrior was deceived yet For what he muting in her powers thought Was but their zeal And what by their excess might have been wrought Her fasts did heal Till that her noble soul by these as wings Transcending the low pitch of earthly things As b'ing reliev'd by God and set at large And grown by this worthy a higher charge Triumphing over Death to Heaven fled And did not dye but left her body dead July 1609. Epitaph Guli Herbert de Swansey qui sine prole obiit Aug. 1609. GReat Spirit that in new ambition Stoop'd not below his merit But with his proper worth being carry'd on Stoop'd at no second place till now in one He doth all place inherit Live endless here in such brave memory The best tongue cannot spot it While they which knew or but have heard of thee Must never hope thy like again can be Since thou hast not begot it In a Glass-Window for Inconstancy LOve of this clearest frailest Glass Divide the properties so as In the division may appear Clearness for me frailty for her Elegy for the Prince MUst he be ever dead Cannot we add Another life unto that Prince that had Our souls laid up in him Could not our love Now when he left us make that body move After his death one Age And keep unite That frame wherein our souls did so delight For what are souls but love Since they do know Only for it and can no further go Sense is the Soul of Beasts because none can Proceed so far as t' understand like Man And if souls be more where they love then where They animate why did it not appear In keeping him alive Or how is fate Equal to us when one man 's private hate May ruine Kingdoms when he will expose Himself to certain death and yet all those Not keep alive this Prince who now is gone Whose loves would give thousands of lives for one Do we then dye in him only as we May in the worlds harmonique body see An universally diffused soul Move in the parts which moves not in the whole So though we rest with him we do appear To live and stir a while as if he were Still quick'ning us Or do perchance we live And know it not See we not Autumn give Back to the earth again what it receiv'd In th' early Spring And may not we deceiv'd Think that those powers are dead which do but sleep And the world's soul doth reunited keep And though this Autumn gave what never more Any Spring can unto the world restore May we not be deceiv'd and think we know Our selves for dead Because that we are so Unto each other when as yet we live A life his love and memory doth give Who was our worlds soul and to whom we are So reunite that in him we repair All other our affections ill bestow'd Since by this love