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	think_v	4,534	5	4.2966	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A63874	Affectuum decidua, or, Due expressions in honour of the truly noble Charles Capell, Esq. (sonne to the Right Honourable Arthur Ld. Capell, Baron of Hadham) deceased on Christmas Day, 1656	Turner, Francis, 1638?-1700.	1656 (1656)	Wing T3273; ESTC R5314	9,517	32

And none hereafter dare to plead pretence To anie 'bove the vulgar Excellence But This prodigious HE finding a Dearth Of Heroe's made His Life equall His Birth And not content with native Greatnesse HE Improv'd His richer Soile by Industrie And ever husbanded His time so well He was become full Ripe before He Fell. But Blasted are our Hopes let 's fruitfully Water with Teares His Hearse let every Pen speake Him truly Great and Good and cry Such are the Ruins of Nobility GABRIELL THISTLETHWAYTE Fellow of New Col. Civ On The Truly Noble CHARLES CAPELL Esq immaturely taken hence being with in few weekes of Marriage VVHen Common men decease t' will serve then turns If with a sigh we waite upon their Urnes Wee ' l no such Mourning who come's here t is meant He bring the Bottles of some Penitent His eyes and all like clouds must pregnant be With Showers to lament This Destiny That the Faire Lady whom His Courtly charmes Prevail'd e're long t' empale within His Armes Betweene Her selfe and Her dead Lover As 'Twixt Hero and Leander once it was May to bewaile th' Division see there do'es An Hellespont of Teares soone interpose Nor can we give lesse Passion to condole The suddaine Flight of so Divine a soule As disaffected with the baser waies Trod by the Gallants of these lewder dayes An higher Walke frequented 'bove the place Where th' Gyant Planet trot's his lofty pace Shooting His thoughts those arrowes of the mind Up to the Pallace of the Unconfin'd But this Elogium only shew's we scan His Christian Parts Let 's speake Him as a man Since Madam Nature ha's Her Jewels too Those Minion Graces that she doe's bestow And breathing on This Theame who 'l not suppose I' me blowing open a most Fragrant Rose For looking thus into Him what do I But into a like Garden boldly pry As that where Poets say men may behold A stately Tree laden with Fruit of gold His youthfull yeares could we exactly trace They ' d make a frosty Grandfire hide his Face To know the Prudence that enchas'd His breast More than by doating Rabbies is possest His Temper was so sweete His wit acute 'T would ha' made Fletcher or Ben-Jonson mute His valour too may well be understood When in such times as These He durst be Good Who as in age so still in vertue rose It is no wonder Heav'n would Him engrosse Thus the bright Queene That Regent of the Night As she advance's gathers Greater Light Yet must at length if not dissolve Away The World 's not made without a Fatall day THO. HOWELL On the Death of CHARLES CAPELL Esq second Sonne to the L d CAPELL of famous memory hapning on christmas-Christmas-Day COuld sable Drops from Pen and Eyes distill Or Briny Teares b' extracted from a Quill Could Greife with Colour'd Accents sighing groane Or Words put on a sad Complexion I ' ld writing weepe and weeping write my Teares Should speake Thy Death my words bedew Thine Hearse My Genius 't is confest vailes to the Rest In writing Elegies Mourne's with the best Should Heedlesse Greife some faults in Lines incurre Teares should wash out the blot Groanes clense the blurre Presumptuous Death t' insult and Triumph then On Men Renown'd and Nobler Spirits when Thine owne Captivity thou should'st deplore Gain'd by our Captains Birth a Saviour So stormes a Calme deface unhappy we To mourne not joy on the Nativity But stay sure 't was Thy Zeale Divine desire To solemnize this Feast among the Quire Of Saints and Angels where to Sing thy Part And fill the Chorus these shall give thee Art Pardon Dear Saint since I 've presum'd to be Partner in Greife grant an Indemnity T' a Twilight-fancy whose bright sunne being sate Shall cease to write though not to imitate WILL MILES Batch of Arts in New Coll. On the Death of the truly Noble and no lesse vertuous CHARLES CAPELL Esq who dyed of the Small-Pox Vpon ChrIstMas Day Last TO write your Life were it my Taske Great Sir I feare I should subscribe your murderer To do 't to Halfes were faire But t' would be s'ed I kill'd you were 't but drawne and quartered Yet he 's Long-liv'd dread Saint who but procures Life to improve like You the Tythes of Yours So that I dare not say You Non-ag'd dy'd Though it be true the world would sweare I Ly'd Nay though by what You Liv'd it might have knowne Had You Liv'd still You ' de ner'e beene over-growne Yet Under-age it wo'nte allowe but hold Your Ripenesse ne're was Non-age'd but borne Old Were 't not that Innocents are Infants style'd Who saw You Youngest never knew You Childe Prose licence me For Him verse is not meete Whose Life though soone run out out-runs those Feete I would dare venture on 't but since I know To speak to th' Life is not to make Him so Nothing but Death I 'le breath I ne're did feare The Small-Pox could fore-run a Plague but Here 'T would Rack a Poet-parliament to sit And club Invention to speake well of it Those spots His Body did bespangle say That they were stars fix'd in the milkie-way Yet mourning His DECREASE we must complaine Stars in this milkie-way prove'd CHARLES His WAINE Small-Pox Thou nick-name'd Evill I dare not call That Grape-stone which but choak'd Anacreon Small And shalt Thou be Thou shouldst have cast about To play small games then Here thou hadst stood out What least that Noble Blood should still have gone Untainted must Thou bring Infection Could I spit venome to blemish thee I 'de trie To make thy spots more and of deeper Die And Thou black-Black-day scarce should I think it fit To name thee under Black and White with it But that I find thee Checkcr'd for I see His Death falls in with Christs Nativitie And thus 't was fit His Life and Death accorde He liv'd the Day speakes to die in the Lord. Then quit the day And 'till we thinke of worse We 'le let the Pox that plagu'd us be a Curse EDW LOWE fellow of New Col. On the Death of the Eminently Enobled CHARLES CAPELL Esq Who after He had honour'd Winton Coll. with His Education and accomplisht Himselfe with a voyage into FRANCE Dyed of the Small-Pox at LONDON Last Christmas 1656. SHow'r downe your Ponderous Teares who e're you be Dare Write or Read a CAPELL'S Elegie Spangle His Hearse with Pearles such as are borne 'Twixt the blear'd Eielids of an o're cast Morn And but 't is vain t' expostulate with Death Or vilifie the Fates with frustrate breath Pose Destinie with Why 's Why Such a Sun Should set before His Noonetide Stage were run Why This Faire Volume should be bound so fast In Wooden Covers Clasp't-up in such hast Was Nature fond of It's Large Character And those Divine Impressions graven There Did shee least we should spoyl't to wave that Sin ' Cause 't was the Best-Edition call-it-in Or would our Vaunting Isle that Saints should

AFFECTVVM DECIDVA Or DVE EXPRESSIONS In honour of the truly noble CHARLES CAPELL Esq Sonne to the right honourable ARTHVR L d CAPELL Baron of Hadham deceased on Christmas Day 1656. Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus Tam Chari Capitis OXFORD Printed Anno Dom. 1656. To the Honourable HENRY CAPELL Esq Son to the Lord CAPELL Baron of Hadham These ensuing ELEGIES are Most humbly Dedicated and Presented Most Honoured Sr WHen I had wept so long till all their store Mine Eyes had spent and so could weep no more My Hands turn'd Publicanes t'recieveth ' Arrears Such as were sent by other Volunteers I know what hazard They and I may run Condemn'd perhaps for strange presumption But view Those Hearts which through the mourning Dresse Of reptile Elegies are crept to th' Presse And You 'l confesse as all the World beside It was our Duties Product not our Pride Then thinke for charitie that all was done Out of Respect not Ostentation And where the highest Auxesis You see Call it ambitious Realitie Believe but This let Hell and Earth let loose Censures which might Momus himselfe amuse Go angry Billowes cease to Roare or Hisse Though Castor 's gon Pollux my Patron is Your Honour 's most faithfull most humble and most oblieged Servant FRANC TURNER From New Coll. Oxon March 2. 1656. To the Right Honourable The Lady CAPELL Baronesse by occasion of the death of the highly accomplisht her deare Son Mr CHARLES CAPELL Madam SHould I'curse Atropos for this Or damne Alecto to Whippe Lachesis Should I make huge Apostrophe's to Fate Or banne pale Death as too Importunate I know you 'd loath each line Your Nobler sense Honour'd by us Worships a Providence You bow to th' Justice Goodnesse and the Care Of that Allmighty Guardian whose you are And whom you serve and could not chuse but cry Out Heathenisme out Fledg'd Blasphemy But since your Honour knowes our hearts are cold Pardon a sigh or two We must be bold To beg 't and to conceive 't a Veniall Sin To let those goe no Spirit can keepe in Th' are all for Him of whom you thinke and dream For as small Brook's are Swallow'd in the streame And th' Plague devours Agues so W' are growne To have ten thousand greifs and yet but One. In Him Was ah sad Was in Him was seene Our all more than all Nestor at eighteene In 's Travails he indulg'd the World He wan Affections gave the Copy of a Man At home I cry to thinke how Coveted i th' Feild i th' Schooles at Councells Board and Bed We cannot guesse our losse The Spaniard know's As well what ingot in Potosi growes Neptune may count his Treasures up assoone As we what Glory 's buried here in one His worth cracks Phancy and Hyperbolyes Fame would performe his Apotheosis But Finds her selfe too weake i th' Lungs to hold Till th' Tith off him toth ' listning world be told Men cald him Heav'n on earth but Now we see That Heav'n on Heav'n makes no False Heraldry This was his Scene he came to be desir'd And Blush at 's owne deserts to be admir'd Yours Madam is the Next and 't is that Feild Must to your sexes Valour Trophee's Yeild Whose tendernesse hates steele T is this must be Your Marston-moore Edg-Hill and Newbury Never came Passion so impowr'd so strong Or Mad for Conquest We here of the throng All looke at th' Issue Get the day and then Great Xander waits among your serving men You 'd know how such a Battle might be won Heare what your Chaplaine say's and it is done Your Ladyships with all Lowlinesse and Devotion to Serve you R. SHARROCK On the Death of the honourable CHARLES CAPELL Esq deceased not long before His intended Marriage ONe onely Time that happy Day From which I keepe my Epocha I saw This Heroe such a sight Might rivall Heav'n and Earth benight Let those who knew Him better praise His noble Soule my humbler Bayes Aspire no further then to shew The strangenesse of that Interview Thus to behold the greatnesse of our losse His face shall serve me for a Looking glasse Whose trickling Eyes did never see In nature's proudest Imag'ry One of so rare a make as HE. Methoughts His manly visage own'd That Love and Honour there were thron'd As if they Two should on that stage Get warriours for the future Age His Eyes they might be Venus hopes And yet Bellona's Telescopes One Glance could looke us Dead and then Another call us back agen Who this should be my guesse had straggled farre He seem'd both Phaebus and the God of Warr But by instinct at last I hit That 't was Prince Arthur's sonne and yet That HE himselfe was Charles the Great Who e're He was the standers by Were all Bedwarft as well as I For what so ere He did it all Became Him as a Generall O had he bin the Giants Cheife To range their Troops and bring reliefe To fetch them off and lead them on Though they cashier'd Oromedon Maugre the shrinking Gods and their allies They might have sup't that very night i' th' skies And Jove the lesser poore pedee Pressing to serve Him on the Knee Resign'd His ill-got Soveraignty Say then interpreter whose Ey Uncloud's the mistique Energy Of things abstruse come tell us how Death overcame His courage now Was He tan'e napping as 't is said Upon His almost-Nuptiall bed Or did His haughty Soule disdaine To fight the dastard Death againe Esteeming Him but as a vanquisht foe 'Bove Sixteene Hundred Christmasses agoe No no such stratagem would take For all His valour would awake For His betrothed Ladie 's sake But the Triumphant Church on high Wanted His presence in the Skie And now forsaken we must want His presence in the Militant Thinke then He was unman'd to be Made Part'ner in That Hierarchie And what we nick-nam'd Forward Fate A Prologue to His nobler State So like Aenaeas He made hast to Die The fitter to accept a Deity But were not Heav'n His Journey 's End In One so High I durst contend 'T were Condescention to Ascend THO HUSEY Col Trinit Gent. Com On the much lamented Death of the honourable CHARLES CAPELL Esq SO soone remov'd can HE be winged Hence And all the Muses dumb can He commence A Saint in Secret Such a Sun as HE Be thus invelop'd in the Canopie Of profound Darknesse long and dismall Night And shall not we all mourne in Black and White It cannot be for even costive I Whose Hide-bound fancy dread's all Poëtrie Now strein to weepe a Rythme and needs must vent My greife in uncouth language and lament The world's sad losse and Towring Honour's Fall In This so Great a Person 's Funerall Generall Catastrophe the Nation Seem's to be almost Levell'd now He 's gon And if His Brother did not live to be All Ages Pattern and Typographie Of wondring Europe I d'e believe henceforth That there might be a Party in worth

out Gore and shower Brine I 'de weepe to Marble and abide His Teare distilling Pyramide But Stay t is true the Prophet's come Heavn'd Herauld's borne Delphos be dumbe Thus Ganymede 's arising Urne Portend's the Fall of Capricorne He Falls Alcides like to be The Mirrour of Astronomie Could Leo's-Taile a Palace spare For wanton Berenice's Haire And Leo Faile No scan the Blisse T is CAPELL'S Apotheosis The Hero's lispt but who can conn His Threno-thriambeuticon WILL. OLDYSS fellow of New Col. On the Immature Death of the worthily Honoured and truly noble CHARLES CAPELL Esq who died on Christmas day Anno Dom. 1656. CEase Rocky Mourners you whose Flinty eyes Gush forth no Torrents at these obsequies If Moses spare his Rod may none view this Rich Urne who weep's without an Emphasis A CAPELL'S Set or He his lustre shrowd's Mounting to 's Apogaeum through the Clouds For who dares thinke He 's mortall whose great name Can Entheat Dull-wits and nonplus Fame No no that hand that murther's others is To Him but Enoch's Metamorphosis Imagine how flaming Elias went Coach't like bright Phaebus through the firmament Thus Soar'd our Seraphim no period Stopt his Career till Centred in his God When Heaven 's Great Sonne unmaskt his new-borne face And like a Gyant strong to run his race Flew from the Barriers of the wombe and hurl'd Downe Pythons of faint glory which the world Ador'd Augustus humbly ceast to be Stil'd Lord ecclipsed by Divinitie So Our Augustus Hot with active Zeale Pluck't off His Body then began to feele More vigorous Heat which made him scorne to be Honour'd on Earth at Christs Nativitie Wherefore undauntedly He cuts His way Through th' Earths Charybdis Death's Bulimia But like the Arke at last he haven's at The Toppe of that celestiall Ararat Where He resides a Representative Able to make another world Alive Ascended then He is and now His face Plac't in a better Light presents each grace Fairer and more perspicuous to our Eyes Then nearnesse can the Pencill's rarities Thus we admire thus we adore the shrine That comprehended nought but was Divine Farewell Brave Soule O that Earth had a Nest To lodg this Dove where He a while might rest And then returne Had He the Phaenix doome We now might have another in His roome Heav'n lent Him but foure Lustres to which foure He added Myriads of Lustres more And sure this well-improved Talent may Expect glad Euge's at th' great Audit day Weepe then sad World and with rich Jove each how'r Drop from Thy Treasury a Golden showr He that lament's in usuall teares doe's trie To make a pesant of a Deitie Once more Farewell High Spirit we returne And bow in adoration to Thine urne Before Whose loud Memorialls shall cease The fast-barr'd Graves their Pris'ners shall release In breife we lastly thus inscribe His Hearse Here lye's no Microcosm but an Universe THO KEN Hart-Hall Com. On the untimely Death of the honourable CHARLES CAPELL Esq second Sonne to the Ladie CAPELL deceas'd on Christmas day last BUt shall I trust the Muses on a Theame Where if not cautious they must need 's blaspheme Will not those Pagans when they tell His fate Lowdly with God and Man expostulate Apt to pronounce in one licentious breath O Tyrant Heaven and O Traitour Earth Or if I ought to hope their daring pride By this sad accident is mortifi'd Yet are They not so pin'de with greife that all Can scarce clubbe Verses for His Funerall Had I that Pen of Mars His Father's Sword Not steept ' i th' Muses Hors-poole but begoard In vanquish't Bloud then with the Point impress't On the Virgin Paper of my naked-Breast I 'de grave His Eulogy but that I feare I should assassinate His Image There Cheap is the Eye's Hydrography a Floud Too low unlesse with Jove we could weep Blood Mirrour of Men shuffled from Earth and hurld To Heav'n to be the Riddle of the World With whom rash Nature travail'd in post-hast Borne an Old man just like the Protoplast And but for 's Beauties and refined parts Plundring the Caskets of poore Ladies hearts His charming graces and what ever can Compleat Nobilitie and write Man Man One so Heroick Pious Just and Good We should distrust Him to be Flesh and Bloud But heer 's the greatest wonder strange and true He was a CAPELL yet a Mortall too Thus happy was His life but nobler bliss Attended on His Apotheosis Have you not seene the Starry Legions rowze Themselves to keepe their Nightly Rendezvouze And all those Heav'nly Janizaries rise To guard the Freckled Empresse of the skies Till One impatient to stand still and heare The charming Musick of each warbling Sphaere Start's from His Rankes and with dishevel'd Haire Mak's an Excursion through the yielding Aire Dancing to th' Harmony as if he He mean't To frisk Lavaltoes through the Firmament So His unshackled Soule shooting through th' Crowd Of Lower thoughts rode trampling on a Cloud Through Convoies of bright Starres while He out-vy'd Their starveling glories whose ecclipsed pride Carry'd His Torches but the lesser Seaven His Linke-boyes were to light him up to Heaven Atlas the Elephant preferr'd to beare On 's brawny back Heav'ns Castle in the Aire Felt then new weight groan'd thrice and by degrees Sinking in Reverence bent his humble knees Whilest lost Chronology had nought to say Wondring that Christmas was Ascention Day To my Ladie But pardon Madam that our verses come When greife should strike us dead or manners dumbe For though Your sighes perfume Him with a breath Able t' aromatize the Grave and Death Yet onely such Confectioners as wee Are able to preserve His memorie And Your Joint-regent Eyes whose every Teare Can re-instate a Broken Jeweller Those Christall-Seas where when You weepe 't is sai'd We neede not Dive for Pearls for there they wade Do piously usurpe Our share when solely You would monopolize all Melancholly But if these froathy Torrents of Our Eyes Drowne with their Roaring those Soliloquies Snatch't up to Heav'n for matter to make Hymns By myriads of attendant Seraphims Shed but one costly Tear and You shall see 'T will instantly Dissolve the Companie FRANC. TURNER schollar of New Col. FINIS