Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	brother_n	life_n	love_v	4,173	5	7.3769	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A39343	Dia poemata, poetick feet standing upon holy ground, or, Verses on certain texts of Scripture with epigrams, &c. / by E.E.	Elys, Edmund, ca. 1634-ca. 1707.	1655 (1655)	Wing E667A; ESTC R20077	18,776	70

from others th'lesser Stars Are but this Greater Planets Pensioners What Hel●●on each Pen distilleth can Adde little to this boundlesse Ocean Here fix Poetick Ra●ble whilst his Grace The Muses High-Priest enters th' Holy Place G. Towerson Art Bac. è Col. Reg. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 All is Vanity and vexation of Spirit ANd is the world like its Black Monarch made That being graspt we find it nought but shade Hell fiends need walk no more the World 's their own Converted to an Apparition 'T is nothing else but Empty shape and thus It seems to be our Malus Genius 'T is o' th' Old Serpents nature being Warme With Love its venome is impower'd to Harme Its Kisses still are Treacherous and so It often Huggs not to Embrace but Throw Sith then when t'r we 're happy here below Griefe but gives back to fetch the harder blow Since Nothing tipt with Essence is th'World's All And the Earths Globe but Fortunes Tennis Ball Fly up my Minde thy Pearches are Heav'ns Pole Earth's Gotham Hedge confines not Winged Soules Surely men of low degree are vanity and men of high degree are a lie to be laid in the balance they are altogether lighter then vanity Ps 629. HOw light is Man by ev'ry wind Of fortune here or there Incl●n'd Her blasts dispell his chiefest Trust And toss him to and fro like Dust He 's oft Puft up by th' Peoples Breath And bubble-like so vanisheth Oft whirled on the wings of Fame And swallow'd up by a Great Name Inferiours scorn'd are Great men curst Or swoll'n with Pride untill they Burst Praise Honor Riches Earthly Glory Like man are Pilgrims Transitory Till th'Night of Ignorance decline These Glow worms seem to him to shine So light 's his Head that Sov'raigne Part He'th nothing Heavy but his Heart Which Drunk with Pleasure still doth reele Or else is Broke on Fortunes Wheel Vain 's all his Labour vain his thought Himself 's but once remov'd from nought Void of all Solidity He 's lighter then vanity All is Vanity but He 's Vanity of Vanities Have pity upon me have pity upon me O ye my Friends for the hand of God hath touched me Job 19. 21. ON me my Friends ô pity take My Bowels quake The hand of God hath touched me Most terriblie Within without from top to Toe I 'm closely girt about with woe A wounded Spirit I must bear O'rewhelm'd with Fear Gods Terrours ah me have Confin'd My troubled Mind Shrunk from the Hope of all relief Within the straits of restlesse Griefe My flesh is all beset with sores It s very Pores Are Block'd up by this Siege of Death I can't vent breath But 't is so loathsome that you 'd think 'T were a Dead Bodie 's odious stink My Goods my Health my Friends and All Together fall I 've onely Life enough to Cry When shall I die Clothed with Clods of Dust e're dead My Flesh in 't self is Buried Mine eye is dim can only see My miserie My breath 's left but to frame my Moans And waft out Groans To Pity now my Friends incline Your hearts if Stony will break mine Lavatus Aethiops And he commanded the Chariot to stand still and they went down both into the water both Philip and the Eunuch and he baptized him Acts 8. 38. MOst happy Eunuch that hath Cur'd his Sick soule in this Bath By Baptism He 's Wash'd within Wrapt about with 's old Black Skin His soule Penitently sad Seems to be in Mourning clad This water Him t'Heavens Port bears Mixt with Paenitentiall tears Aqua vitae't proves to Him Dead in T●espasses and Sin His soule 's a Diamond that 's set In a Cabinet of Jeat In dark-Lanthorns thus ther 's Light Thus a Star shines in Dark Night In 's Jesus is his Delight He shall walk with him in white Such Candid Aethiopes are seldome seen Fa●r People oft arc Aethiopes within On Christmas day Vnto you is born in the City of David a Saviour which is Christ the Lord. Luke 2. 11. THis Day the LORD of Heaven and Earth Subjects Himself to Humane Birth By this Transcendent Mysterie God and Man are at Vnity Strange He that is was is to come Thus wrapt up in a Mortall Wombe Would th' Sun of Righteousnesse thus shroud His Glorious Lustre in a Cloud Of humble Flesh and Bloud and can Mans Maker be the Son of Man Hyperbole of wonder How Times Ancestor come forth but Now Nay Stranger Yet we may dare say Eternity was Born This Day Blest Angel Who these Tidings bring Ambassadour from th' King of Kings Th' articulate aire that wafts this news To th' Soul does th' Breath of life infuse This heav'nly sound the Shepheards ears Judge the best Musick of the Sphears As Orpheus's courser art drew sense This ravisheth intelligence Souls rapt up by this harmony Unto the Throne of Grace do fly Faith comes by hearing He that hears This Angels voice annoints his ears With th' Oyle of Gladness and by Faith Shall Live although he pass through death O Jesu who wast Born Jesus to me Grant that this day I be New-born to thee I am distressed for thee my brother Jonathan very pleasant hast thou been unto me th● love to me was wonderfull passing the love of women 2 Sam. 1. 26. I 'M slave to grief not mine own man For thee my brother Jonathan Twixt us who were in life all-one Death could cause no division I can't forsake thee dead but I Sith thou art dead must dayly die Tearing thee off my souls best part Fate could not choose but break my heart Those arrows which thou shot'st did prove The arrows of our mutual love Most pleasant hast thou been to me No Woman ever lov'd like thee W 'had more then Marriage-union Our souls had copulation Our heart-blood was so mixt that we Were'kin by CONSANGUINITY Thus't could not be thou shouldst be slain And I not feel the utmost pain Thy fate strikes at me in thy knell Methinks I hear my Passing-bell I scarce survive with sighs disturb'd my breath Seems to be seiz'd on by the pangs of Death How shall we sing the Lords song in a strange land Psal 1374. TO light hearts only such light mirth belongs Our fortune weeping will allow no songs These rivets yield us the fitt'st musick we Account their murmures our best harmony In them the Embleme of our fate appears Their murmures show our groans their streams our tears How shall we sing in a strange land our tongues Benumm'd with sorrow are unfit for sengs He profanes sacred melody that dares To sing in anguish and mix Sighs with Ayres Our unregarded Harps hung up you see Like Trophees to adorn griefs victory Our Ears so glutted with continuall Moans Can't relish th' Sweetnesse of such plealant Tones Then Mirth farewell 〈◊〉 our mournfull Gestures shall Still solemnize our Countryes Funerall Whilst she a Captive lives a wofull Death We wo'nt by Songs let any Joy draw breath