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	great_a	time_n	7,743	5	3.4082	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A50154	A poem dedicated to the memory of the Reverend and excellent Mr. Urian Oakes, the late pastor to Christ's flock and præsident of Harvard Colledge in Cambridge ...	Mather, Cotton, 1663-1728.	1682 (1682)	Wing M1142; ESTC R31243	7,562	22

A POEM Dedicated to the Memory OF The Reverend and Excellent Mr. VRIAN OAKES the late Pastor to Christ's Flock and Praesident of Harvard-Colledge in Cambridge Who was gathered to his People on 25 d 5 mo 16●● In the fifty'th Year of his Age. 1 Sam. 25. 1. And SAMUEL dyed an● the Israelites were gathered together and Lame●●●● him Scindentur Vestes Gemmae frangentur et Aurum Carmina quam tribuunt Fama perennis erit O 〈…〉 Magna dabit qui magna potest mihi parva potent● Parvaque poscenti parva dedisse sat est 〈…〉 BOSTON IN NEW-ENGLAND Printed for Iohn Ratcliff 1682. TO THE READER WOrthies to Praise is a Praise-worthy thing Christ did it and will do it And to Sing The Elogyes of Saints departed in The Rhythm of Elegyes has alwayes been Esteemed Reason David bids me go My Christian Reader and like him do so Cotton Embalms great Hooker Norton Him And Norton's Herse do's Poet-Wilson trim With Verses Mitchel writes a Poem on The Death of Wilson And when Mitchel's gone Shepard with fun'ral Lamentations gives Honour to Him and at his Death receives The like from the like-Maro Lofty Strain Of admirable Oakes I should be vain To thrust into that gallant Chorus Pride Ne'er made mee such an Icharus I cry'd Of good Exemples Ahimaaz his Thought How if I should run after them And brought These as a Pattern and a Plea for what I do that my cross Reader blame me not But why so late my Naenia's some will deem Both out of Time and Tune To some I seem Grief's Resurrection to essay and bee Iust like the Trojans who came late to see And sorrow with Tiberius Only this Shall be Reply'd The fond Bookseller is Now guilty of this Paper 's ravishment When long supprest Give him thy Discontent Since Oakes as Homer has all Places Claim Let Boston too forget its Anagram Memoirs of the Life and Worth Lamentations for the Death and Loss of the every way admirable Mr. VRIAN OAKES WEep with me Reader Never Poet had His Quill employ'd upon a Theme so sa● As what just Providence Grief grumble not Do's with black Warrant Press mee to O what This OAKES is dead One of the bittrest Pil● Compounded of three Monosyllables That could have been dispensed Absalom Sure felt not more Distress Death Danger come With the three Darts of Ioab Blest Shade an Vniversal Tax of Sorrow Thy Country ows thee Ah! we need not borrow The Praefica's Say Oakes is dead and there There is enough to squeese a briny Tear From the most flinty Flint Once at the Blow Of Moses from a Rock a Stream did flow But look th' Almightye's Rod now smites us home Oh! what Man won't a Mourner now become Dear Saint I cannot but thy Herse bedew With dropping of some Fun'ral Tears I Rue Thy Death I must My Father Father say Our Chariots and our Horsemen where are they I the dumb Son of Craesus 'fore mine Eyes Have sett and will cry when my Father dyes Oh! but a Verse to wait upon thy Grave A Verse our Custome and thy Friends will have And must I brue my Tears ah shall I fetter My Grief by studying for to mourn in Metre Must too my cloudy Sorrows rain in Tune Distilling like the softly Showrs of Iune Alas My Ephialtes takes me See 't I strive to run but then I want my feet What shall I do Shall I go invocate The Muses to mine aid No That I hate The sweet New-England-Poet rightly said It is a most Vnchristian Vse and Trade Of some that Christians would be thought If I Call'd Help the Muses mother Memory Would be enough He that Remembers well The Vse and Loss of Oakes will grieve his fill Ih'd rather pray that Hee in whose just Eyes The Death of his dear Saints most preciose is And Hee who helped David to bewail His Ion'than would not my Endeavours fail A sprightly Effort of Poetick Fire Would e'en Transport mee to a mad Desire How could I wish Oh! that the nimble Sun Of thy short Life before thy Day was done Might backward Ten Degrees have moved or Oh! that thy Corps might but have chanced for To have been buried near Elisha's bones Oh! that the Hand which rais'd the Widows Sons Would give thee to thy Friends again But Fy That Passion 's vain To sob Why didst thou dy Is but an Irish Note Death won't Restore His Stolen Goods till Time shall be no more Shall I take what a Prologue Homer hath Lett mee Relate the Heavenly Powers Wrath Or shall I rather join with Ieremie And o're our great and good Iosiah sigh O that my Head were waters and mine Eyes A fountain were that Hadadrimmon's Cryes Might bubble from mee O that Day and Night For the Slain of my People weep I might Ah! why delay I Reader step with mee And what is for thee on Grief's Table see Memoria Praeteritorum is The Dish I call thee to Come taste of this Oakes vvas Ah! miserable word But what Hee vvas Let Never Never be forgot Beleeve mee once It were a worthy thing Of 's Life and Worth a large Account to bring To publick Vievv for general Benefit I would essay with Leave Good Reader it So far as feet will carry mee but know it From first to last Grief never made good Poet. Hee that lasht with a Rod could versify Attain'd and could pretend far more than I Short was thy Life Sweet Saint quickly run Thy Race Thy Work was oh how quickly done Thy Dayes were David's measure but a Span Five Tens of Years roll'd since thy Life began Thus I remember a Greek Poet Rhimes They whom God Loves are wont to dy betimes Thus Whit●ker Perkins Preston Men of Note Ay! many such Never to fifty got And thus Rachel New-England many Seers Have left us in the akme of their Years Good Soul Thy Iesus who did for thee dy In Heaven longed for thy Company And let thy Life be measur'd by thy Deeds Not by thy Years Thy Age strait nothing needs Divert My Pen Run through the Zodiac Of Oakes his Life And cause I knowledge lack Of most Occurrents let mee now and then Snatch at a Passage worthy of a Pen. Our Mother England ev'n a Village there Fuller insert it did this Worthy bear Over the Ocean in his Infancy His Friends with him into New-England fly Here while a lad almost a miracle As I have heard his Aged Father tell Sav'd him from drowning in a River Hee Would guess a Miracle and Moses bee Now did Sweet Nature in him so appear A Gentlewoman once cry'd out If ere Good Nature could bring unto Heaven then Those wings would thither carry Vrian Prompt Parts and early Pitty now made Men say of him what once observers said Of great Iohn Baptist and of Ambrose too To what an one will this strange Infant grow Her Light and Cup did happy Harvard give Unto him and from her he did receive

His Two Degrees A double Honour to Thee Harvard Own it did by this accrue So being furnisht with due burnisht Tools The Armour and the Treasure of the Schools To Temple-work he goes I need not tell How he an Hiram or Bezaleel Did there approve himself I 'le only add Roxbury his first-fruits first Sermon had Some things invite Hee back to England goes With God and Man hee there in favour growes But whilst he lives in that Land Tichfield cryes Come over Sir and help us He complyes The Starr moves thither There the Orator Continu'd charming sinful mortals for To close with a sweet Jesus Oh! he woo'd He Thundred Oh! for their eternal good How did he bring the Promises and how Did he discharge flashes of Ebal Now Hee held Love's golden Scepter out before The Humble Soul Now made the Trumpet roar Fire Death and Hell against Impenitent Desp'rates untill hee made their hearts relent There did hee merit Sibs's Motto I Iust like a Lamp with lighting others dy Ah! like a Silk-worm his own bowels went To serve his Hearers while he soundly spent His Spirits in his Labours O but there He must not dy except Death Civil Here Why mayn't we Sigh it here dark Bartholmew This gallant and heroic Witness slew Silenc't he was not buried out of sight A worthy Gentleman do's him invite Unto him and like Obadiah hide Him dear to them with whom he did reside Finding his Prayers and Presence to produce An Obed-Edom's blessing on the House A Spirit of great Life from God do's enter Within a while into him Hee do's venture To stand upon his feet Hee prophesy's And to a Congregation Preacher is Join'd with a loving Collegue who will not Be buried till Symmons be forgot But our New-England Cambridge wants him and Sighs Of my Sons none takes me by the hand Now Mitchel's gone Oh! where 's his parallel Call my Child Vrian Friendly Strangers tell An OAKE of my own breed in England is That will support mee Pillar-like and this Must be resolv'd I 'le Pray and Send Agreed Messengers go and calling Council speed The good Stork over the Atlantic came To nourish and cherish his Aged Dam. Welcome great Prophet to New-England shore Thy feet are beautiful A number more Of Men like thee with us would make us say The Moral of More 's fam'd Vtopia Is in New-England yea far greater wee Should think wee Twisse's guess accomplisht see When New Ierusalem comes down the Seat Of it the wast America will bee 't Cambridge thy Neighbours must congratulate Thy Fate Oh! where can thy Triumvirate Meet with its Mate A Shepard Mitchel then An Oakes These Chrysostoms these golden Men Have made thy golden Age That fate is thine To bee blest with the Sun 's perpetual Shine What Sylvius sais of Rhodes Sure thou mayst call Thy Name Capernaum But oh the fall Of that enlightened Place wee 'l humbly pray Dear Lord Keep Cambridge from it But Quill where fly'st thou Let the Reader know Cambridge some years could this brite Iewel show Yet here a Quartane Ague does arrest The Churches Comfort the Countryes Rest. But this Praise Mercy found some Ague-frighter Hee mends and his Infirmity grows lighter Ev'n that his dear Orestes smil'd So small Your Illness you 'd as good have none at all Well! the poor Colledge faints Harvard almost An Amnesty cryes ' st gives up the ghost The branches dwindle But an OAK so near May cherish them 'T was done The gloomy fear Of a lost Colledge was dispell'd The Place The Learning the Discretion and the Grace Of that great Charles who long since slept dy'd Lov'd and Lamented worthy Oakes supply'd His Nurse he suckles and the Ocean now Refunds what th' Earth in Rivers did bestow Pro Tempore a sad Prolepsiis was For a long time his Title but just as Wee had obtain'd a long'd for Alteration And fixt him in the Praesident's firm Station The wrath of the Eternal wields a blow At which my Pen is gastred But Up Lord wee 're undone Nay Up and Try Heart Vent thy grief Ease Sorrow with a Sigh Lett 's hear the matter Write de Tristibus Alas Enough Death hath bereaved us The Earth was parch't with horrid heat We fea'rd The blasts of a Vast Comet 's flaming Beard The dreadful Fire of Heaven inflames the blood Of our Elijah carrying him to God Innumerable Sudden Deaths abound Our OAKES a Sudden blow laid on the ground And gives him blessed Capel's wish which the Letany prayes'gainst To dy Suddenlie The Saints hope to have the Lord's Table spread But with astonishment they find him dead That us'd to break the Bread of Life O wee Deprived of our Ministers often bee At such a Season Lord thy Manna low In our blind Eyes we fear is wont to go The Man of God at the first Touch do's feel With a Praesage his Call to Heavens weal Hee sits himself for his last Conflict Saw The ghastly King of Terrors Icy claw Ready to grapple with him then he gives A Look to him who dy'd and ever lives The great Redeemer do's disarm the Snake And by the Hand his faithful Servant take Leading him thorow Death's black Valley till Hee brings him in his arms to Zion's Hill Fall'n Pillar of the Church This Thy Translation Has turn'd our Joyes into this Lamentation Sweet Soul Disdaining any more to trade With fleshly Organs that a Prison made Thou' rt flown into the World of Souls and wee Poor stupid Mortals lose thy Companie Thou join'st in Consort with the Happy gone Who happ'er than Servants of Solomon Are standing round the Lamb's illustrious Throne Conversing with great Isr'el's-Holy-One Now could I with good old Grynaeus * say Oh! that will be a bright and gloriose Day When I to that Assembly come and am Gone from a world of guilt filth sorrow shame I read how Swan-like Cotton joy'd in Thought That unto Dod and such he should be brought How Bullinger deaths grim looks could not fright Because t would bring him to the Patriarchs Sight Well might it be so Heathen Socrates In hopes of Homer Death undaunted sees Who knows but the Third Heaven may sweeter be Thou Citizen of it dear Oakes for thee Sure what of Calvin Beza said and what Of thy forerunner Mitchel Mather wrote I 'le truly add Now Oakes is dead to mee Life will less sweet and Death less bitter bee Lord Lett us follow Nay Then Good Reader Thou and I must try To Tread his Steps Hee walk't Exemplar'ly Plato would have none to be prais'd but those Whose Praises profitable wee suppose Oh! that I had a ready Writer's Pen If not Briareus hundred Hands and then I might limn forth a Pattern Ah! his own Fine Tongue can his own worth Describe alone That 's it I want and poor I Shan't I show Like the man whom an Hero hired to Forbear his Verses on him Yet a lame Mephibosheth will scape a David's blame