Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	charles_n	king_n	year_n	4,851	5	5.3919	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A85076	A faithful subjects sigh, on the universally-lamented death, and tragicall end, of that virtuous and pious prince, our most gracious soveraigne, Charles I. King of Great Brittaine, most barbarously butchered by his rebellious subjects. / By a gentleman now resident in the court of Spaine.	Gentleman now resident in the court of Spaine.	1649 (1649)	Wing F290; Thomason E560_4; ESTC R201971	2,783	8

A FAITHFUL SUBJECT'S SIGH ON The universally-lamented Death and Tragicall End of that Virtuous and Pious PRINCE our most Gracious Soveraigne CHARLES I. King of Great Brittaine most Barbarously Butchered by His Rebellious Subjects By a Gentleman now resident in the Court of Spaine Printed in the Year 1649. CAROLVS STVARTVS Scotus Magnae Britanniae REX Anagramma AGNVS CANIBVS Esus Corona exaltatur Martyr est Chronogramma CharLs 150 the trVe 5 PICtVre 106 of ChrIst 101 CrVCIfI'D 707 Great BrIttaIn's 2 VertVoVs 15 KIng 1 noVV 10 GLorIfI'D 552 A Faithfull Subjects Sigh c. FAme speak it softly in thy lowest tone Else say He lives still though alas he 's gone Our King hath chang'd His Court for Heavens White-hall There He Reignes free but here He liv'd in Thrall To th'upper-house of Heav'n for all His wrongs He now appeales where no Tumultuous throngs Of Commons may Intrude for Justice calling Which comes with vengeance on ye Leave your bawling And will commit you all to her Black-rod Then Vote'gainst the Star-Chamber of your God Bold matchlesse villaines as ye have pull'd downe His Throne on Earth and stampt upon His Crowne Old Time I challenge thee to match but this Most horrid Treason and from thy Abisse Of Monuments and darke Lethaean Cell Where Monsters sleep draw one to Parallel The English Rebell rake Hell and extract From thy worme-eaten blinde Records an Act So black so Hellish as when Charls now slaine Was past by Subjects on a Soveraigne Time draw the Curtaines of Antiquity Shew such a cruell bold impiety But yet re-draw them and strive to conceale Our shame our wretched shame oh don't reveale How much our Gyant-Traytors have out-went And over-grown thy Pigmy-President Oh for poor Englands honour let it not Be said the English should exceed the Scot In Treason and Disloyaltie that shee Who was Heav'ns Condidate should branded be And stigmatiz'd with such foule Infamy That shee who for the lap of Gregory Was Great with Angels once should now disgrace Her former Births thus with a spurious race Of Divels Now what will be answered To those that aske me for thy Churches Head Poor England Now thy Head is Triumphant Whilst that thy Church is truely Militant Thou for thy Lucius that wert so renown'd Mother to th' First baptized Monarch Crown'd Who forth ' First Christian wert Glorify'd Un-Christian-like thy King first Crucify'd Thou to whose pious wombe like a rich mine Teem'd Christ's first Ensigne-bearer Constantine The eldest Christian Caesar should'st now lie Impregnated within this curst progeny Of Vipers most true Vipers that do knaw Their way to life through their poor Mothers maw Nay base unnaturall wormes when borne these suckt Her brest Heart-bloud out left not till they pluckt Their Mothers Head off Where 's St George Appear For England now with thy victorious Spear Against a Dragon ready to devoure Thy bleeding Lady quickly from its power Redeeme thy England like her Champion And kill this Hydra nurst in Alcoran That hath an hundred Heads and from each spets ' Gainst God himself its loathsome venom'd threats Hath his Vicegerent slaine whom Innocent Of th'subtile windings of a Parliament Which like this monstrous Serpent's Taile Him caught Involv'd within its poys'nous wreaths and wrought By those false Treach'rous foldings and made-Laws Within the reach of those curst Devils-claws That now have Butcher'd Him Oh with what face Could they impeach the sacred divine Grace Of so great Majesty and not struck Blind With the bright rayes thereof as once we find Those Sodomitick troopes were just so bent ' Gainst those two Heavenly Courtiers to Lot sent As now ' gainst this Angelick Hero those Base Buggerers of Freedome Heavens foes How chance there flew not Fire-bals from those Eyes Those dread Celestiall Torches such vile Flyes Such swarmes of Waspes and Beetles to reduce And scorch to Atomes that durst to Accuse So Good So Great a King but what Damn'd Slave What Stygian Rascall was 't the SENTENCE gave And could condemne his PRINCE nay and to dye By th'Fatall Axe of Traytors Publiquely Wonder ye Heav'ns the Earth clave not asunder To swallow such a Judge and through him under The Bench of Radamanthus there to feele The vulture Furies whip Ixion's wheele Whilst all the Hissing Convent of Hell prye Amaz'd to see so strange a Prodigie And blush a Moderne Rogue to come Behinde But could Three-headed Cerberus that black Fiend That snarling Curre of Pluto's Kitchin get On one of the Three snakie Sisters yet So foule a Monster as could dare to be The Actor of so dire a Tragedy And put in Execution that Black Deed Making his Gracious Sacred Soveraign Bleed O Yron-heart O Rockie Soule not reele With a Repentant Palsie when the Steele He brandisht o're That Head O cruell stroke That hath cut downe Druina's Royall Oake When the hard Axe wept Teares of Bloud and He That held it Flinty-breasted unmov'd See Ne're stagg'ring at the Act And could the Sun Still hold his journey and not frighted run Behinde the Cloudes there put on sable weeds And from the East dispatch his Fiery steeds Back ward unto the West withdraw his light And in that Morne bid this darke World Good-night Or could Dame nature unrelenting keep Her constant course 'T is true she made Heaven weepe In an abundant manner for the Skies In Tears seem'd to dissolve at 's Obsequies But no more shew of Sorrow 'T is most strange Nature infring'd thus made no greater change Shifting her weeke-dayes Garments for His sake To put on mourning Robes would she not take No Livery of Luto nor vouchsafe to wear No badge of Grief nor anger to cause fear In those remorslesse villains and to shake Their cruell Hearts with Terrour by Earth-quake Or Blazing-Star and Comet fiery red To make those Doggs know whom they murdered True Grandame Nature thou did'st well resent Thy God our Saviours Passion thou did'st rent The Temples vale asunder and did'st split The vaults ofth ' Earth which such an Ague fit Lay trembling in that therewithall she wak'd The sleeping Ghosts out of their darke Tombes shak'd To stand and wonder at that darker Night When thou had'st spread black curtaines o're the Light To solemnize Christ's funer all rights but know A Truer Symbole of our Christ then now Ne're suffered since then surely for His sake Some lamentable change thou ought'st to make O're our most Gracious Soveraign now dead By His owne People base Jewes Martyred And 'twixt two Theeves too Crucified which were The INDEPENDENT and the PRESBYTER And as the Chief Priests and the Pharisees Held Councell ' gainst our Saviour so these Of our Sanhedrim with the Libertine In such a Parliament did now combine ' Gainst Christ's Anointed where in vaine they sought Him to surprize 'till they Him also Bought And Covenanted with the Scot for Gold Who Judas-like his Native Master sold Then as the Dove in th' Talons of the Kite Secur'd by 's Rebels in the Isle of Wight Where as Christ in the Garden was for Pray'r Secluded and devoted to prepare Himselfe for th' houre He knew was drawing nigh To apprehend Him they a Company Of Treacherous villaines sent Him to betray And by that Kisse of Treaty lead the way For them to gripe Him then hir'd the loud cry Of th' Multitude that should say Crucifie Yet some of th' Jewish Jury could confesse Like Pilate that they found their Lord Guiltlesse Washing their hands not hearts saying they saw No fault in Him but ye have made a Law Said those dissenting Lords whereby 't is fit We to your Swords Him and our selves submit So His life He laid down for th'sins of 's Foes Like Christ for the peculiar faults of those That shed His Bloud who their good King accus'd Of th'salfe-same Crimes wherewith they Him abus'd In all things Christ's true Picture and who dies So like 's Redeemer I dare Canonize And for that Earthly Crown which here He bare That Crown of Thornes so full of prickling Care And sharpe Afflictions I dare averre this He wears Martyrs one in Paradise FINIS