Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	day_n	die_v	soul_n	6,945	5	5.0141	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A17961	Poems By Thomas Carevv Esquire. One of the gentlemen of the Privie-Chamber, and Sewer in Ordinary to His Majesty.	Carew, Thomas, 1595?-1639?; Carew, Thomas, 1595?-1639? Cœlum Britannicum.; Jones, Inigo, 1573-1652.	1640 (1640)	STC 4620; ESTC S107383	70,156	270

of passion or some powerfull charmes To vent his owne griefe or unlock her armes Take off his pen and in sad verse bemone This generall sorrow and forget his owne So may those Verseslive which else must dye For though the Muses give eternitie When they embalme with verse yet she could give Life unto that Muse by which others live Oh pardon me faire soule that boldly have Dropt though but one teare on thy silent grave And writ on that earth which such honour had To cloath that flesh wherein thy selfe was clad And pardon me sweet Saint whom I adore That I this tribute pay out of the store Of lines and teares that 's only due to thee Oh doe not thinke it new Idolatrie Though you are only soveraigne of this Land Yet universall losses may command A subsidie from every private eye And presse each pen to write so to supply And seed the common griefe if this excuse Prevaile not take these teares to your owne use As shed for you for when I saw her dye I then did thinke on your mortalitie For since nor vertue will nor beautie could Preserve from Death's hand this their heavenly mould Where they were framed all and where they dwelt I then knew you must dye too and did melt Into these teares but thinking on that day And when the gods resolv'd to take away A Saint from us I that did know what dearth There was of such good soules upon the earth Began to feare lest Death their Officer Might have mistooke and taken thee for her So had'st thou rob'd us of that happinesse Which she in heaven and I in thee possesse But what can heaven to her glory adde The prayses she hath dead living she had To say she 's now an Angell is no more Praise then she had for she was one before Which of the Saints can shew more votaries Then she had here even those that did despise The Angels and may her now she is one Did whilst she liv d with pure devotion Adore and worship her her vertues had All honour here for this world was too bad To hate or envy her these cannot rise So high as to repine at Deities But now she 's 'mongst her fellow Saints they may Be good enough to envy her this way There 's losse i' th' change 'twixt heav'n and earth if she Should leave her servants here below to be Hated of her competitors above But sure her matchlesse goodnesse needs must move Those blest soules to admire her excellence By this meanes only can her journey hence To heaven prove gaine if as she was but here Worshipt by men she be by Angels there But I must weepe no more over this urne My teares to their owne chanell must returne And having ended these sad obsequies My Muse must back to her old exercise To tell the story of my martyrdome But oh thou Idoll of my soule become Once pittifull that she may change her stile Drie up her blubbred eyes and learne to smile Rest then blest soule for as ghosts flye away When the shrill Cock proclaimes the infant-day So must I hence for loe I see from farre The minions of the Muses comming are Each of them bringing to thy sacred Herse In either eye a teare each hand a Verse To my Mistresse in absence THough I must live here and by force Of your command suffer divorce Though I am parted yet my mind That 's more my selfe still stayes behind I breath in you you keepe my heart 'T was but a carkasse that did part Then though our bodyes are dis-joynd As things that are to place confin'd Yet let our boundlesse spirits meet And in loves spheare each other greet There let us worke a mystique wreath Vnknowne unto the world beneath There let our claspt loves sweetly twin There let our secret thoughts unseen Like nets be wear'd and inter-twin'd Wherewith wee 'le catch each others mind There whilst our soules doe sit and kisse Tasting a sweet and subtle blisse Such as grosse lovers cannot know Whose hands and lips meet here below Let us looke downe and marke what paine Our absent bodyes here sustaine And smile to see how farre away The one doth from the other stray Yet burne and languish with desire To joyne and quench their mutuall fire There let us joy to see from farre Our emulous flames at loving warre Whilst both with equall luster shine Mine bright as yours yours bright as mine There seated in those heavenly bowers Wee 'le cheat the lag and lingring houres Making our bitter absence sweet Till soules and bodyes both may meet To her in absence A SHIP TOst in a troubledsea of griefes I floate Farre from the shore in a storme-beaten boat Where my sad thoughts doe like the compasse show The severall points from which crosse winds doe blow My heart doth like the needle toucht with love Still sixt on you point which way I would move You are the bright Pole-staire which in the darke Of this long absence guides my wandring barke Love is the Pilot but o're-come with feare Of your displeasure dares not homewards steare My fearefull hope hangs on my trembling sayle Nothing is wanting but a gentle gale Which pleasant breath must blow from your sweet lip Bid it but move and quick as thought this Ship Into your armes which are my port will flye Where it for ever shall at Anchor lye SONG Eternitie of love protested HOw ill doth he deserve a lovers name Whose pale weake flame Cannot retaine His heate in spight of absence or disdaine But doth at once like paper set on fire Burne and expire True love can never change his seat Nor did he ever love that could retreat That noble flame which my brest kee●…es alive shall still survive When my soule 's fled Nor shall my love dye when my bodye's dead That shall waite on me to the lower shade And never fade My very ashes in their urne Shall like a hallowed Lamp for ever burne Upon some alterations in my Mistresse after my departure into France OH gentle Love doe not forsake the guide Of my fraile Barke on which the swelling tide Of ruthlesse pride Doth beat and threaten wrack from every side Gulfes of disdaine do gape to overwhelme This boat nigh sunke with griefe whilst at the helme Dispaire commands And round about the shifting sands Of faithlesse love and false inconstancie With rocks of crueltie Stop up my passage to the neighbour Lands My sighs have rays'd those winds whose sury beares My sayles or'e boord and in their place spreads teares And from my teares This sea is spr●…ng where naught but Death appeares A mystie cloud of anger hides the light Of my faire starre and every where black night Vsurpes the place Of those bright rayes which once did grace My forth-bound Ship but when it could no more Behold the vanisht shore In the deep flood she drown'd her beamie face Good counsell to a young Maid WHen you the

circles dances free From the impetuous Torrent so did hee Give others leave to turne the wheele of State Whose restlesse motions spins the subjects fate Whilst he retir'd from the tumultuous noyse Of Court and suitors presse apart enjoyee Freedome and mirth himselfe his time and friends And with sweet rellish tastes each houre he spends I could remember how his noble heart First kindled at your beauties with what Art He chas'd his game through all opposing feares When I his sighes to you and back your teares Convay'd to him how loyall then and how Constant he prov'd since to his mariage vow So as his wandring eyes never drew in One lustfull thought to tempt his soule to sinne But that I feare such mention rather may Kindle new griefe than blow the old away Then let him rest joyn'd to great Buckingham And with his brothers mingle his bright flame Looke up and meet their beames and you from thence May chance derive a chearfull influence Seeke him no more in dust but call agen Your scatterd beauties home and so the pen Which now I take from this sad Elegie Shall sing the Trophies of your conquering eye An Elegie upon the death of Doctor Donne Deane of Pauls CAn we not force from widowed Poetrie Now thou art dead Great Donne one Elegie To crowne thy Hearse Why yet did we not trust Though with unkneaded dow-bak'd prose thy dust Such as th'uncizard Lect'rer from the flower Of fading Rhet'rique short-liv'd as his houre Drie as the sand that measures it might lay Vpon the ashes on the Funerall day Have we nor tune nor voyce didst thou dispence Through all our languge both the words and sence 'T is a sad truth The Pulpit may her plaine And sober Christian precepts still retaine Doctrines it may and wholsome uses frame Grave Homilies and Lectures but the flame Of thy brave soule that shot such heat and light As burnt our Earth and made our darknesse brighs Committed holy rapes upon the will Did through the eye the melting heart distill And the deepe knowledge of darke truths so teach As sence might judge where fancy could not reach Must be desir'd for ever So the fire That fills with spirit and heate the Delphique Quire Which kindled first by thy Promethean breath Glow'd here a while lyes quencht now in thy death The Moses garden with Pedantique weedes O're-spread was purg'd by thee the lazie seeds Of servile imitation throwne away And fresh invention planted thou did'st pay The debts of our penurious banquerout Age Licentious thefts that make poetique rage A mimique furie when our soules must be Possest or with Anacrcons extasie Or Pindars not their owne the subtle cheate Of flie exchanges and the jugling seate Of two-edg'd words or whatsoever wrong By ours was done the Greeke or Latine tongue Thouhast redeem'd and Opened us a Mine Of rich and pregnant fancie drawne a line Of Masculine expression which had good Old Orpheus seene or all the ancient brood Our superstitious fooles admire and hold Their Leade more precious then thy burnisht gold Thou hadst beene their Exchequer and no more They each in others dung had search'd for Ore Thou shalt yeeld no precedence but of Time And the blind fate of Language whose tun'd chime More charmes the outward sense yet thou mayst claime From so great disadvantage greater fame Since to the awe of thy imperious wit Our troublesome language bends made only fit With her tough thick-rib'd hoopes to gird about Thy Gyant fancie which had prov'd too stout For their soft melting phrases As in time They had the start so did they cull the prime Buds of invention many a hundred yeare And left the rifled fields besides the seate To touch their harvest yet from those bare lands Of what was onely thine thy onely hands And that their smallest worke have gleaned more Then all those times and Tongues could reape before But thou art gone and thy strickt lawes will be Too hard for Libertines in Poetrie They will recall the goodly exil'd ttaine Of Gods and Goddesses which in thy just raigne Was banisht nobler Poems now with these The silenc'd tales i' th' Metamorphoses Shall stuffe their lines and swell the windie page Till verse resin'd by thee in this last Age Turne Ballad-rime or those old Idols be Ador'd againe with new Apostasie Oh! pardon me that breake with untun'd Verse The reverend silence that attends thy Hearse Whose solemne awfull Murmurs were to thee More then these rude lines a loude Elegie That did proclaime in a dumbe Eloquence The death of all the Arts whose influence Growne feeble in these panting numbers lyes Gasping short-winded accents and so dyes So doth the swiftly-tuning wheele not stand In th' instant we withdraw the moving hand But some short time retaine a saint weake course By vertue of the first impulsive force And so whilst I cast on thy funerall stile Thy crowne of Bayes oh let it crack awhile And spit disdaine till the devouring flashes Suck all the moysture up then turne to ashes I will not draw the envy to engrosse All thy perfections or weepe all the losse Those are too numerous for one Elegie And this too great to be exprest by me Let others carve the rest it shall suffize I on thy Grave this Epitaph incize Here lyes a King that rul'd as he thought fit The Vniversall Monarchie of wit Here lyes two Flamens and both those the best Apollo's first at last the true God's Priest In answer of an Elegiacall Letter upon the death of the King of Sweden from Aurelian Townsend inviting me to write on that subject WHy dost thou sound my deare Aurelian In so shrill accents from thy Barbican A loude allarum to my drowsie eyes Bidding them wake in teares and Elegies For mightie Swedens fall Alas how may My Lyrique feet that of the smooth soft way Of Love and Beautie onely know the tread In dancing paces celebrate the dead Victorious King or his Majesticke Hearse Prophane with th' humble touch of their low verse Virgil nor Lucan no nor Tasso more Then both not Donne worth all that went before With the united labour of their wit Could a just Poem to this subject fit His actions were too mighty to be rais'd Higher by Verse let him in prose be prays'd In modest faithfull story which his deedes Shall turne to Poems when the next Age reades Of Frankfort Leipsigh Worsburgh of the Rhyne The Leck the Danube Tilly Wallestein Bavaria Bapenheim Lutzenfield where Hee Gain'd after death a posthume Victorie They 'le thinke his Acts things rather feign'd then done Like our Romances of the Knight o' th' Sun Leave we him then to the grave Chronicler Who though to Annals he can not refer His too-briefe storie yet his Journals may Stand by the Caesars yeares and every day Cut into minutes each shall more containe Of great designement then an Emperours raigne And since 't was but his Church-yard let him have For his owne ashes

as earst one Sun shall on thee shine But those two glorious suns her eyes devine O then what Monarch would not think 't a grace To leave his Regall throne to have thy place My self ●… to gaine thy blessed seat do vow Would be transformd into a rose as thou The protestation a Sonnet NO more shall meads be deckt with flowers Nor sweetnesse dwell in rosie bowers Nor greenest buds on branches spring Nor warbling birds delight to sing Nor Aprill violets paint the grove If I forsake my Celias love The fish shall in the Ocean burne And fountaines sweet shall bitter turne The humble oake no flood shall know When floods shall highest hills ore-flow Blacke Laethe shall oblivion leave If ere my Celia I deceive Love shall his bow and shaft lay by And Venus doves want wings to flie The Sun refuse to shew his light And day shall then be turn'd to night And in that night no starre appeare If once I leave my Celia de●… Love shall no more inhabite earth Nor lovers more shall love for worth Nor joy above in heaven dwell Nor paine torment poore soules in hell Grim death no more shall horrid prove If ere I leave bright Celias love The tooth-ach cured by a kisse FAte 's now growne mercifull to men Turning disease to blisse For had not kind Rheume vext me then I might not Celia kisse Phisitians you are now my scorne For I have found a way To cure diseases when forlorne By your dull art which may Patch vp a body for a time But can restore to health No more then Chimists can sublime True Gold the Indies wealth That Angell sure that us'd to move The poole men so admir'd Hath to her lip the seat of love As to his heaven retir'd To his jealous Mistris ADmit thou darling of mine eyes I have some Idoll lately fram'd That under such a false disguise Our true loves might the lesse be fam'd Canst thou that knowest my heart suppose ' I le fall from thee and worship those Remember deare how loath and slow I was to cast a looke or smile Or one love-line to mis-bestow Till thou hadst chang'd both face and stile And art thou grow no afraid to see That maske put on thou mad'st for me I dare not call those childish feares Comming from love much lesse from thee But wash away with frequent teares This counterfeit Idolatrie And henceforth kneele at ne're a shrine To blind the world but only thine The Dart. OFt when I looke I may desery A little face peepe through that eye Sure that 's the boy which wisely chose His throne among such beames as those Which if his quiver chance to fall May serve for darts to kill withall The mistake WHen on fairo Celia I did spie A wounded hēart of stone The wound had almost made me cry Sure this heart was my owne But when I saw it was enthron'd In her celestiall brest O then I it no longer own'd For mine was ne're so blest Yet if in highest heavens doe shine Each constant Martyrs heart Then shee may well give rest to mint That for her sake doth smart Where seated in so high a blisse Though wounded it shall live Death enters not in Paradise The place free life doth give Or if the place lesse sacred were Did but her saving eye Bath my sicke heart in one kind teare Then should I never dye Slight balmes may heale a slighter sore No medicine lesse divine Can ever hope for to restore A wounded heart like mine Coelum Brittanicum A MASQVE AT WHITE-HALL IN the Banquetting house on Shrove-Tuesday-night the 18. of February 1633. The Inventors Tho Carew Inigo Iones Non habet ingenium Caesar sed jussit habebo Cur me posse negem posse quod ille putat LONDON Printed for Thomas Walkley 1640. THE DESCRIPTION OF THE SCAENE THe first thing that presented it selfe to the sight was a rich Ornament that enclosed the Scaene in the upper part of which were great branches of Foliage growing out of leaves and huskes with a Coronice at the top and in the midst was placed a large Compartiment composed of Groteske worke wherein were Harpies with wings and Lyons clawes and their hinder parts converted into leaves and branches over all was a broken Frontispice wrought with scrowles and masque heads of Children and within this a Table adorn'd with a lesser Compartiment with this Inscription COELVM BRITANNICVM The two sides of this Ornament were thus ordered First from the ground arose a square Basement and on the Plinth stood a great vaze of gold richly enchased and beautified with Sculptures of great Releine with frutages hanging from the upper-part At the foot of this sate two youths naked in their naturall colours each of these with one arme supported the Vaze on the cover of which stood two young women in Draperies arme in arme the one figuring the glory of Princes and the other Mansuetude their other armes bore up an Ovall in which to the Kings Majesty was this Imprese A Lyon with an Imperiall Crowne on his head the word Animum sub pectore forti On the other side was the like Composition but the designe of the Figures varied and in the Oval on the top being borne up by Nobility and Fecundity was this Imprese to the Queens Majesty A Lilly growing with branches and leaves and three lesser Lillies springing out of the Stemme the Word Semper inclita Virtus All this Ornament was heightned with Gold and for the Invention and various composition was the newest and most gracious that hath beene done in this place The Curtaine was watchet and a pale yellow in paines which flying up on the sudden discovered the Scaene representing old Arches old Palaces decayed wals parts of Temples Theaters Basilita's and Therme with confused heaps of broken Columnes Bases Coronices and Statues lying as under-ground and altogether resembling the ruines of some great Citie of the ancient Romans or civiliz'd Brittaines This strange prospect detayn'd the eyes of the Spectators sometime when to a loud Musick Mercury descends on the upper part of his Chariot stands a Cocke in action of crowing his habit was a Coat of flame colour girt to him and a white Mantle trimm'd with gold and silver upon his head a wreath with small fals of white Feathers a Caduseus in his hand and wings at his heeles being come to the ground he dismounts and goes up to the State Mercury FRom the high Senate of the gods to You Bright glorious Twins of Love and Majesty Before whole Throne three wat●…ke Nations bend Their willing knees on whose Imperiall browes The Regall Circle prints no awfull frownes To fright your Subjects but whose calmer eyes Shed joy and safety on their melting hearts That flow with cheerefull loyall reverence Come my Cyllenius Ioves Ambassadour Not as of gold to whisper amorous tales Of wanton love into the glowing eare Of some choyce beauty in this numerons traines Those dayes are fled the