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
A34171	Poems, with a maske by Thomas Carew ... ; the songs were set in musick by Mr. Henry Lawes ...	Carew, Thomas, 1595?-1639?; Lawes, Henry, 1596-1662. Coelum britannicum. Libretto.; Carew, Thomas, 1595?-1639? Coelum britannicum.	1651 (1651)	Wing C565; ESTC R21803	74,706	224

on thy silent grave And writ on that earth which such honour had To cloath that flesh wherein thy self was clad And pardon me sweet Saint whom I adore That I this tribute pay out of the store Of lines and tears that 's only due to thee Oh doe not think it new Idolatry Though you are only soveraign of this Land Yet universall losses may command A subsidie from every private eye And press each pen to write so to supply And feed the common grief if this excuse Prevail not take these tears to your own use As shed for you for when I saw her dye I then did think on your mortality For since nor vertue witt nor beauty 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 tears 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 souls upon the earth Began to fear lest Death their Officer Might have mistook and taken thee for her So had'st thou rob'd us of that happiness Which she in heaven and I in thee possess 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 than she had for shee was one before Which of the Saints can shew more votaries Than shee 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 loss 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 goodness needs must move Those blest soules to admire her excellence By this meanes only can her journey hence To heaven prove gain if as she was but here Worship'd by men she be by Angels there But I must weep no more over this urn My teares to their own chanell must return 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 soul become Once pitiful that she may change her stile Dry up her blubbred eyes and learn to smile Rest then blest soul for as ghosts fly away When the shrill Cock proclames the infant-day So must I hence for loe I see from farre The minions of the Muses coming are Each of them bringing to thy sacred Herse In either eye a tear each hand a Verse To my Mistris 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 self still stayes behind I breath in you you keep my heart 'T was but a carkasse that did part Then though our bodies are dis-joynd As things that are to place confin'd Yet let our boundless spirits meet And in loves sphere each other greet There let us work a mystique wreath Vnknown unto the world beneath There let our claspt loves sweetly twine There let our secret thoughts unseen Like nets be weav'd and inter-twin'd Wherewith wee catch each others mind There whilst our souls doe sit and kiss Tasting a sweet and subtle bliss Such as gross lovers cannot know Whose hands and lips meet here below Let us look down and mark what pain Our absent bodies here sustain And smile to see how far away The one doth from the other stray Yet burn and languish with desire To joyn 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 'l cheat the lag and lingring houres Making our bitter absence sweet Till souls and bodies both may meet To her in absence A SHIP TOst in a troubled sea of griefs I float Far from the shore in a storm-beaten boat Where my sad thoughts doe like the compass show The severall points from which cross winds do blow My heart doth like the needle toucht with love Still fixt on you point which way I would move You are the bright Pole-star which in the dark Of this long absence guides my wandring bark Love is the Pilot but o'r-come with fear Of your displeasure dares not home-wards stear My fearfull hope hangs on my trembling sayl 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 Eternity of Love protested HOw ill doth be deserve a Lovers name Whose pale weak flame Cannot retain His heat in spight of absence or disdain But doth at once like paper set on fire Burn and expire True love can never change his seat Nor did he ever love that could retreat That noble Flame which my brest keeps alive Shall still survive When my soule 's fled Nor shall my love dye when my hodye's dead That shall wait on me to the lower shade And never fade My very ashes in their urn Shall like a hallowed Lamp for ever burn Vpon some alterations in my Mistresse after my departure into France OH gentle Love doe not forsake the guide Of my frail Bark on which the swelling tide Of ruthlesse pride Doth beat and threaten wrack from every side Gulfes of disdain doe gape to overwhelm This boat nigh sunk with grief whilst at the helm Dispair commands And round about the shifting sands Of faithless love and false inconstancy With rocks of cruelty Stop up my passage to the neighbour Lands My sighs have rais'd those winds whose fury bears My sayls o'r-boord and in their place spreads tears And from my tears This sea is sprung where nought but Death appears A mystie cloud of anger hides the light Of my fair star 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 beamy face Good counsell to a young Maid WHen you the Sun-burnt Pilgrim see Fainting with thirst haste to the springs Mark how at first with bended knee He courts the crystall Nymphs and fling His body to the earth where He Prostrate adores the flowing Deitie But when this sweaty face is drencht In her cool waves when from her sweet Bosome his burning thirst is quencht Then mark how with disdainfull feet He kicks her banks and from the place That thus refresht him moves with sullen

my Celia I deceive Love shall his bow and shaft lay by And Venus Doves want wings to fly The Sun refuse to shew his light And day shall then be turn'd tonight And in that night no star appear If once I leave my Celia dear Love shall no more inhabit earth Nor Lovers more shall love for worth Nor joy above in heaven dwell Nor pain torment poor souls in hell Grim Death no more shall horrid prove If e'r I leave bright Celia's Love The tooth-ach cured by a kiss FAte 's now grown mercifull to men Turning disease to bliss For had not kind Rheum vext me then I might not Celia kiss Phisicians you are now my corn For I have found a way To cure diseases when forlorn By your dull Art which may Patch up a body for a time But can restore to health No more than Chimists can sublime True Gold the Indies wealth The Angel sure that us'd to move The pool men so admir'd Hath to her lip the seat of love As to his heaven retir'd To the jealous Mistris ADmit thou darling of mine eies I have some Idol lately fram'd That under such a false disguise Our true loves might the less be fam'd Canst thou that knowest my heart suppose I le fall from thee and worship those Remember dear how loath and slow I was to cast a look or smile Or one love-line to mis-bestow Till thou hadst chang'd both face and stile And art thou grown afraid to see That mask put on thou mad'st for me I dare not call those childish fears Comming from love much less from thee But wash away with frequent tears This counterfeit Idolatry And henceforth kneel at ne'r a shrine To blind the world but only thine The Dart. OFt when I look I may descry A little face peep through that eye Sure that 's the boy which wisely chose His throne among such beams as those VVhich if his quiver chance to fall May serve for darts to kill withall The Mistake WHen on fair Celia I did spy A wounded heart of stone The wound had almost made me cry Sure this heart was my own But when I saw it was enthron'd In her celestiall breast O then I it no longer own'd For mine was ne'r so blest Yet if in highest heavens do shine Each constant Martyrs heart Then she may well give rest to mine That for her sake doth smart VVhere seated in so high a bliss Though wounded it shall live Death enters not in Paradise The place free life doth give Or if the place less sacred were Did but her saving eie Bath my sick heart in one kind teare Then should I never die Slight balms may heal a slighter sore No medicin less divine Can ever hope for to restore A wounded heart like mine To my Lord Admirall on his late sickness and recovery VVIth joy like ours the Thracian youth invade Orpheus returning from th' Elysian shade Embrace the Heroe and his stay implore Make it their publike sute he would no more Desert them so and for his Spouses sake His vanisht love tempt the Lethaen Lake The Ladies too the brightest of that time Ambitious all his lofty bed to climbe Their doubtfull hopes with expectation feed Which shall the fair Euridice succeed Euridice for whom his numerous moan Makes listning Trees and savage Mountaines groan Through all the Ayr his sounding strings dilate Sorrow like that which touch'd our hearts of late Your pining sickness and your restless pain At once the Land affecting and the Mayn When the glad newes that you were Admirall Scarce through the Nation spread 't was fear'd by all That our great CHARLES whose wisdom shines in you Should be perplexed how to chuse a new So more than private was the joy and grief That at the worst it gave our soules relief That in our Age such sense of vertue liv'd They joy'd so justly and so justly griev'd Nature her fairest light ecclipsed seemes Her self to suffer in these sad extremes While not from thine alone thy blood retires But from those checks which all the world admires The stem thus threatned and the sap in thee Droop all the branches of that noble Tree Their beauties they and we our love suspend Nought can our wishes save thy health intend As Lillies over-charg'd with rain they bend Their beauteous heads and with high heaven contend Fold thee within their snowy anres and cry He is too faultless and too young to die So like Immortals round about thee They Sit that they fight approaching death away Who would not languish by so fair a train To be lamented and rester'd again Or thus with-held what hasty soul would go Though to the Blest O'r young Adonis so Faire Venus mourn'd and with the precious showr Of her warm teares cherisht the springing flower The next support fair hope of your great name And second Pillar of that noble frame By loss of thee would no aduantage have But step by step pursues thee to thy grave And now relentless Fate about to end The line which backward doth so farr extend That Antique stock which still the world supplies With bravest spirits and with brightest eyes Kind Phaebus interposing bade me stay Such stormes no more shall shake that house but say Like Neptune and his Sea-born Neece shall be The shining glories of the Land and Sea With courage guard and beauty warm our Age And Lovers fill with like Poetique rage On Mistris N. to the green sickness STay coward blood and doe not yield To thy pale sister beauties field Who there displaying round her white Ensignes hath usurp'd thy night Invading thy peculiar throne The lip where thou shouldst rule alone And on the cheek where natures care Allotted each an equall share Her spreading Lilly only growes Whose milky deluge drowns thy Rose Quit not the field faint blood nor rush In the short salley of a blush Vpon thy sister foe but strive To keep an endless warre alive Though peace doe petty States maintain Here warre alone makes beauty raign Vpon a Mole in Celia's bosome THat lovely spot which thou dost see In Celia's bosome was a Bee Who built her amorous spicy nest I' th' Hyblas of her either breast But from close Ivory Hyves she flew To suck the Aromatick dew Which from the neighbour vale distils Which parts those two twin-sister hils There feasting on Ambrosiall meat A rowling file of Balmy sweat As in soft murmurs before death Swan-like she sung chokt up her breath So she in water did expire More precious than the Phaenix fire Yet still her shaddow there remains Confind to those Elizian plains With this strict Law that who shall lay His bold lips on that milky way The sweet and smart from thence shall bring Of the Bees Honey and her sting An Hymeneall Song on the Nuptials of the Lady Ann Wentworth and the Lord Lovelace BReak not the slumbers of the Bride But let the Sun in Triumph ride Scattering his beamy light When

prov'd since to his marriage vow So as his wandring eyes never drew in One lustfull thought to tempt his soul to sin But that I fear such mention rather may Kindle new grief than blow the old away Then let him rest joyn'd to great Buckingham And with his brothers mingle his bright flame Look up and meet their beams and you from thence May chance derive a chearfull influence Seek 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 Poetry Now thou art dead Great Donne one Elegie To crown 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 Rhetorique short liv'd as his houre Dry as the sand that measures it might lay Upon the ashes on the Funerall day Have we not tune nor voyce didst thou dispence Through all our language both the words and sense T is a sad truth The Pulpit may her plain And sober Christian precepts still retain Doctrines it may and wholsome uses frame Grave Homilies and Lectures but the flame Of thy brave soul that shot such heat and light As burnt our Earth and made our darkeness bright Committed holy rapes upon the will Did through the eye the melting hearts distill And the deep knowledge of dark truths so teach As sense might judge what fancy could not reach Must be desir'd for ever So the fire That fils with spirit and heat the Delphique Quire Which kindled first by thy Promethean breath Glow'd here a while lyes quench'd now in thy death The Muses garden with Pedantique weeds O'r-spread was purg'd by thee the lazie seeds Of servile imitation thrown away And fresh invention planted thou did'st pay The debts of our penurious banquerout Age Licentious thefts that make poetique rage A mimique fury when our soules must be Possest or with Anacreon's extasie Or Pindar's not their own the subtle cheat Of sly exchanges and the jugling seat Of two-edg'd swords or whatsoever wrong By ours was done the Greek or Latine tongue Thou hast redeem'd and opened us a Mine Of rich and pregnant fancie drawn a line Of Masculine expression which had good Old Orpheus seen or all the ancient brood Our superstitious fools admire and hold Their Lead more precious than thy burnish Gold Thou hadst been 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 Langage whose tun'd chime More charms the outward sense yet thou mayst claim 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 hoops to gird about Thy Gyant fancy which had prov'd to 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 year And left the rifled fields besides the fear To touch their harvest yet from those bare lands Of what was only thine thy only hands And that their smallest work have gleaned more Than all those times and Tongues could reap before But thou art gone and thy strickt lawes will be Too hard for Libertines in Poetry They will recall the goodly exil'd train Of gods and goddesses which in thy just raign Was banisht nobler Poems now with these The silenc'd tales i' th' Metamorphoses Shall stuff their lines and swell the windy page Till verse refin'd by thee in this last Age Turn Ballad-rime or those old Idols be Ador'd again with new Apostasie Oh! pardon me that break with untun'd Verse The reverend silence that attends thy Hearse Whose solemn awfull Murmurs were to thee More than these rude lines a loud Elegie That did proclame in a dumbe Eloquence The'death of all the Arts whose influence Grown feeble in these panting numbers lyes Gasping short-winded accents and so dyes So doth the swiftly-turning wheel not stand In th' instant we withdraw the moving hand But some short time retains a faint weak course By vertue of the first impulsive force And so whilst I cast on thy funerall Pile Thy crown of Bayes oh let it crack a while And spit disdain till the devouring flashes Suck all the moysture up then turn to ashes I will not draw the envy to engross All thy perfections or weep all the loss Those are too numerous for one Elegie And 't is too great to be exprest by me Let others carve the rest it shall suffice I on thy Grave this Epitaph incize Here lyes a king that rul'd as he thought fit The Vniversall Monarchy of wit Here lyes two Flamens and both those the best Apollo's first at last the true God's Priest In answer to an Elegiacall Letter upon the death of the King of Sweden from Aurelan Townsend inviting me to write on that subject WHy dost thou sound my dear Aurelian In so shrill accents from thy Barbican A loud allarum to my drowsic eys Bidding them wake in tears and Elegies For might Sweden's fall Alas how may My Lyrique feet that of the smooth soft way Of love and Beauty only know the tread In dancing paces celebrate the dead Victorious King or his Majestick Hearse Prophane with th' humble touch of their low verse Virgill nor Lucan no nor Tasso move Than 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 deeds Shall turn to Poems when the next Age reads Of Frankfort Leipsigh Worsburgh of the Rhyne The Leek the Danube Tilly Wallestein Bavaria Dapenbeim Lutzenfield where He Gain'd after death a posthume Victory They 'l think his Acts things rather feign'd than don 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 story yet his Iournals may Stand by the Caesars years and every day Cut into minutes each shall more contain Of great designement than an Emperours raign And since 't was but his Church-yard let him have For his owne ashes now no narrower Grave Than the whol German Continents vast womb Whilst all her Cities doe but make his Tomb. Let us to supreme providence commit The fate of Monarchs which first thought it fit To rend the Empire from the Austrian grasp And next from Swedens even when he did clasp Within his dying armes the Soveraignty Of all those Provinces that men might see The Divine wisedome would not leave that Land Subject to any one Kings sole command Then let the Germans fear if Caesar shall Or the Vnited Princes rise and fall But let us that in myrtle