Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	bright_a	eye_n	good_a	46	3	2.1034	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A17461	Saint Marie Magdalens conuersion	I. C., fl. 1603.	1603 (1603)	STC 4282; ESTC S118867	10,918	28

And they as ready for to giue content Vnto their Lady lend awilling eare Within themselues they seriously debate How to redresse their mistres troubled state First memorie the mindes best Register Telles her of many Like her selfe distrest Who were reliued by this comforter And had their former euilles all redrest How that the proude he vseth to reiect But mercies-beggars allwayes doth erect Here Hope conceaueth from examples past A good conceipt that like may now ensue She doth suggest how that his mercies last And are bestow'de on them that humbly sue Hope doth perswade her sad Contrition Will for offences begge Remission Now strong opinion doth posses her brest And her ensureth of a good successe And free-borne will as handmaide to the rest Is now behinde to entertaine such gesse Only distrust and euer-douting feare Her springing hapes doe crosse with dead dispayre They bid her looke aright on her misdeedes And shee should finde 't was not as shee suppo'de Which chookes in her the growth of hopefulll seede And makes her doubt what earst had beene propos'de As oft as Hope her fainting soule imbouldes Distrust and feare the same as oft controwles Like to a Trau'ler in an vnknowne way Who hauing sundrye pathes to passe along Is carefull which to take fearing to stray And still he doubts that which he takes is wrong So her sad soule with doudtfull feares opprest Knowes not which course to take but wills the best Now Hope his wonted pirtie dote relate And then Distrust bids her his Iustice eye Yet fearefull Hope at length doth animate Her Consious soule his mercies doome to trye Shee now resolues all feare b'eing lade aside Vnder his mercies winges her selfe to hide And least the vice hatefull to God and man Ingratitude that ill repaying sinne Should in her brest erect his mansion From forth her store sweet oyntment shee doth bring Which shee intends vpon him to bestow That out-ward acte her inward loue might showe Shee was not like those ill-deseruinge Iewes In clensed bodies haching leprous soules Their healthes-restorer nine of them refuse But shee his loue within her brest infoldes And gratefully her precious oyle doth shed On his deuine and far more precious hed This acte of hers her Lord doth so regard That he comaundes it should for aye be knowne And where his lifs true storie should be hearde This deede of hers should like-wise there be showne This acte of hers her Lorde somuch regarded That he the same with double pay rewarded O what are we o Lord that thou should'st way Our dutious seruice at so high a rate All that we borrow Iustice bindes to pay We owe thee all from the we all did take How comes it then that thou so well accep'sts If we discharge the tent'he of our due debtes What did shee giue thee but a cruse of oyle Which now shee had no further cause to vse Shee will no more her well form'de visage soile And Natures workmanship by arte abuse But thou did'st weigh the loue where-with shee gaue it Which made thee graciously vouchsafe to haue it Now shee proceedes and from his head descendes Vnto his feete where prostrate shee doth lye For former Pride shee faine would make amendes With this deuout vnfain'de Humilitie Shee loulie setts her at his blessed feete Meane while her eyes riuers of teares doe weepe Teares of true sorrowe for offences done Her watrie eyes like prodigalles doe spend Wherewith the feete of great Iehouans Sonne For to imbalme shee humblie doth intend Those feete of his these teares of hers make faire And being wett shee dries them with her haire O well spent teares you did but clense the spottes Which wery iornies and foule waies had maide But you did wash of many thousand blottes Wherewith foule sinne her gilty soule had smear'de O happy teares and happely bestowed You did defray what ere your mistres owed After this worke of Charity was past Her loue was such shee would not from him part No earthly stormes her heauenly loue could blast It was so deeply rooted in her hart With modest silence tempering her loues heate Her silent loue by silence growing greate O silence Companion of the wise Thou surest note of spotles Chastitie All our fraile passions thou dost temporise And kindlest Holy thoughtes in secresie Thou art a vertue rarely found on earth Of vertues store there is so great a dearth In Princes Coortes thou canst no harbor finde Thy seruice there is but of sleighte regarde Thou canst not flatter thou art not the winde Wherewith ambitious toylinge gestes are rear'de Thou canst not fill the sailes of Enuies boate Nor sett the ship of longe-tong'de Fame a floate Thou art no tradseman for the Citties vse Thou canst not harbor manie tounges in one The Countriemen with thee haue broken truce And entred league with fell dissention The woodes the babling Ecco entertaine Which eache worde iterates and makes one twaine Both Coort and Cittie Countrie and the woodes Are vnto Sylence straingers now vnknowne And shee hath left them to their brain-sicke moodes And to the heauens from whence shee came is flowne Shee seldome now doth visite this our coaste Far if shee comes shee knowes not where to hoaste This vertue first possessed Maries brest And did dispose her vnto higher grace For where garrulitie doth buylde her nest There modest vertues haue no biding place By this her new-reformed life was knowne By this hereafter constancie was showne For when the Lord of life our Ransome pai'de And by his death gaue life vnto the dead When his Disciples fearefully dismai'de From persecutions angrie presence fled Shee constantlie attendes him to his passion And feares no threates of her life-killing Nation Euen at the foote of that fruit-baring tree Which cur'de the wounde by former tree receaued Shee humblie settes her downe greiuing to see His blessed presence from her thus bereaued In steade of feete shee powres her liberall teares On that dead truncke which now his body beares This shee imbraceth in her twisted armes Mixing her salt teares with his luke-warme bloude Which from his woundes distil'de to salue our harmes Like forced streames proceading from some flude Which when shee sees it makes her sad soule bleede In strong compassion of so foule a deede O thou my Lord my Loue my Soules delighte Thy sighte was earst quoth shee my chiefest ioye To see thee thus it doth my soule affrighte And turnes all former pleasure to annoye To see thee thus how can I chose but weepe When for my teares thy bloud doth wash thy feete How can I chose but weepe to see thy head Inuiron'de with a crowne of sharpest thorne To see thy louely count'nance palle and dead Which once with beautie did the heauens adorne To see the brightest lampes which light the skies Obscur'de by bloud and death thy blessed eyes To see those euer-working handes of thine So sauadglie affixed to this woode Which with a touch gaue lighte to blindest eyne

And alwaies were imploi'de in doing good To see that hart where Charitie doth dwell Peirced with Enuies speare the dart of Hell To see those worne but neuer-wear'ed feete Who manie longe and toyle some iorneys made To seeke vs loste and euer-wandringe sheepe In the vaste desert of blacke sinne insnar'de Now nether going standing nor at rest But to a peece of woode with nayles addrest To see that body which the purest wombe Of an vnspotted Virgin once contain'de Now to bee fitter for some gastlie tombe By cruell stripes and woundes deform'de and stain'de Thy selfe dispised naked and for lorne Bereft of freindes and to thy foes a scorne How can I chose o Lord but weepe and moane In sad remembrance of these dire aspectes How can I chose but sigh to heare the grone Vnder the heuie loade of our defects Was there no other meanes to pay our losse But thou must needes be naled to this Crosse O wounderfull effectes of wonderous loue He that of late gaue life vnto the dead And from possessed bodies did remoue Legions of Diuelles that his presence fled For them that kills him doth his life bestow And paies the debt which they themselues did owe. O you vngratefull bloudy-mynded Iewes Allwaies imbr'de in spilling righteous bloode How can you thus this innocent abuse Who neuer in the way of sinners stoode What hath he done that you should vse him thus Was he not euer mercifull and iust Did hee not feede the hongrie of the lande And cure the sicke through his health-giuinge mighte Did hee not make the lame to goe and stande And to the blinde restore desired sighte Did not both poore and sicke both lame and blinde Through his milde pitty health and comfort finde O you are more in humane beast-like men Then sauadge beastes in wildest desertes bred They for a good deede still haue gratefull ben And such as did releiue them they haue fed But you do pay the hire of ill desart To him that did all good to you impart This maks the heauens who earst were bright cleare To chainge their purple weedes to saddest blacke No signes of ioye in heauen or earth appeare Because the Lord of ioye and blisse they lacke The Sonne himselfe doth hide his glorious face Lothing to see his makers foule disgrace The earth doth tremble att this horred deede Frighting the ghostes of the infernall deepe Her wombe bringes forth straing and vntimelie seede The dead arise which in her bosome sleepe The adamantine rockes doe cleaue a sunder Their stonie hartes do rent to see this wonder But you whose hartes are harder then the rockes You bloody actors of this tragicke sceane You that repay sweete Charitie with mockes And seeke his losse who doth your welfare meane You neither earth belowe nor heauen aboue With their vnwonted prodigies can moue O thou sad mother of a sadder Sonne Thou art spectator too of this great losse Thy ioyes are past thy sorrowes newe-begunne Whome once the Cribe receau'de now beares the Crosse Vnto his Birth the one did harbor tend Vpon the other hee his Life doth spend My greeued soule is wounded with remorce To see thy swollen eyes to heare thy groanes The very sight would flinty hartes enforce To take compassion of thy bitter moanes Thou art more like the dead or deathes palle wife Then to the mother of the Lord of life Shall you and I deare Ladie plight our troth And wed our selues to sorrowes restles bed Our loue and ioye is taken from vs both And we are lefte for to bewale the dead Wee both lament the losse of him that 's gonne I a most louing Lord thou a blessed Sonne Sall wee be take vs to a Heremitage In some wilde desert vnto men vnknowne And there weare out the remnant of our age Filling the wide woodes with our ceaseles moane Lette me take part of this thy heauy cheare And for ech figh of thine I le spend a teare Fellowes in misery lessens sorrowes waight But I vnworthy am to be thy mate I haue a spotted soule with sinnes full fraight But thou a Virgine art Immaculate Thou art assin'de vnto a Virgines keeping I will alone betake my selfe to weeping By that time this her sad complaint was done He that giues life had vanquish'de death by dying And Ioseph comes t'interr this Holy one Which in this weeper breedes newe cause of crying Before shee wept to see him so tormented Because shee sees him not shee now lamented For Ioseph had newe tane him from the Crosse And lai'de him in a Sepulchre of stone Not his spent life but his dead bodies losse Is now the cause of this her second moane Shee sees the tree of life of fruit bereft But her loue-wounded soule vncured left Which makes her thus to speake O sacred tree His precious bloud hath left thee sanctified Thou wert ordain'de an Aulter for to bee Whereon this offring should bee sacrified Since hee is gone who was thy ornament To thee my sad complaintes shall all bee bent I le sett thee for an obiect fore myne eyes In seing thee I shall not him forget Who did vouchsafe on thee to sacrifice His owne deare life to pay our sinnefull debt Though for my Sauiours shame they did thee make Yet I will honour thee for his sweete sake With these and such like plaintes the day was spent And duskie nighte had darkened all the sckye Which when shee sawe vnto her home shee went And there absentes her from all companye Like to a Turtle hauing lost her mate So shee without her Lord is desolate This restles night and Saboathes rest b'eing past A day of sorrowe and vnrest to her Vnto the Monument early shee did hast Where they his Precious Body did intier Shee doth present the rising of the sunne And takes her Iorney ere the day begunne Noe wonted daungers of the fearfull night Coulde make her from her enterprise to staye When Ghostes and Sprites night-walkers vse to fright When Wolues and rauonous Beastes doe wach their pray When none but murderrers and theeues did wake Then all-alone this Pilgrimage shee takes Shee might haue fear'de the Souldiers cruell garde Who did about that Holy place attende And night and day his toumbe did watch and warde And from all Visitores the same defend But her stout harte these perilles could not touch Her loue was more although her daunger much Loue made her strong although herselfe were weake Loue gaue swifte winges vnto her quicke desire Loue added fire to her former heate Of doubtes nor daungers Loue doth not enquire O powerfull loue thou dost no perilles cast The bitt'rest pilles seeme pleasant to thy taste By this time loue had brought her to his toumbe Which shee findes open by the stones remoue But nought shee sees with in his emptie toumbe But linnen cloths which had inwrapt her loue Whome when shee findes not shee doth weep moane Imaginning that he was stolne and gone O you profaine and Sacraligious theeues Who haue quoth shee his sacred corps bereft It is a sinne to rob from him that liues To rob the house of death is dubble theft Was not your enuy by his dying past But after death the same must also last O Enuy thou art a more blaker sinne Then bloudy murder who seekes naught but death His thirstie appetie hath quenshed beene But thou thy killing sworde dost neuer sheath The act being done he often doth relent But thy hell-borne malice nere is spent I had not long enioy'de his blessed sight But thou did'st take him to the Crosse from mee Where hauing kill'de him in thy selfe dispite Thou seem'dst content that he intomb'de should bee There did I thinke I should his presence haue But thou hast also taine him from his graue Vnhappie I to come no sooner hether I might aswell haue come the day before Now they haue taine him hence I know not whether And I am neuer like to see him more The Spice and Oyntments which with me I brought I cannot now bestow on him I sought With this two Glorious Angelles doe appeare To Comforte this vncomfortable one They tell her h 'is risen bids her not feare But cease her sad complaintes and heauy moane Whilst shee standes doubtfull of this happie newes Her louing Lord himselfe vnknowne shee vewes Shee takes him to bee gard'ner of that place And gentlie doth bespeake him as dismai'de That if he did his body thence displace Hee would enforme her where the same was lai'de Hee louingly discouers whome he is Shee doth adore when thus her Lord shee sees Her humbled body to the earth shee bowes In odarac'on of his Dietie Meane while her ioyfull soule her-selfe bestowes In Contemplac'on of this Misterie Of heauenlie ioy shee feeles so sweete a taste That shee forgettes her auncient sorrowes paste O thou that art the heauens and earthes Creator Thou great dispensor of Caelestiall treasure Thou that of Angelles Men and Beastes art maker Whose profound wisedome hath nor end nor measure How mercifull O Lord art thou for each good deede Thou doest repay vs with a dubble meede Shee wash'de thy feete with teares her eyes had shed To clense her soule thy bloud thou did'st perfuse Shee powr'de her precious oyntement on thy hed In her thou did'st Caelestiall grace infuse Shee for thy absence did great sorrowe take Thou with thy presence did'st her ioyfull make Giue grace O Lord to me vnworthy one To imitate this blessed Saint of thine Fill thou myne eyes with teares my hart with moane That I may wayle those greuious sinnes of myne And if salt teares vnto myne eyes be scant Bee mercifull O Lord for this my want Make me like her all worldlie ioyes reiect And lett my soule bee wedded to thy loue Thy louing sweetenes lett me not forgete All other fancies from my hart remoue And if I do not loue thee as I should Haue mercie Lord accept of that I would Finis Deo gratias I. N. R. I.