Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	dead_a	die_v	life_n	15,052	5	4.9534	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A10290	An elegie upon the death of the most illustrious and victorious Prince Gustavus Adolphus King of Swethland &c. Composed immediately after the first rumours of his death, and now published and dedicated to the memoriall of so renouned a prince.	Russell, John, d. 1688.	1633 (1633)	STC 20573; ESTC R212838	2,180	1

AN ELEGIE UPON THE DEATH OF THE MOST ILLVSTRIOVS AND VICTORIOUS PRINCE GVSTAVUS ADOLPHVS KING OF SWETHLAND c. COMPOSED IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE FIRST RUMOURS OF HIS DEATH AND NOW published and dedicated to the memoriall of so renouned a Prince WHat strange sad silence doth the world astound Why doth not Fame's still eccho'ng trumpet sound She 's grown forgetfull or else hoarse I fear That we no more victorious sounds can heare 'T was but of late when as the thundring noise Of doubled triumphs conquests and applause Fill'd our Horizon and the aire did ring With shouts of praise to Swedes victorious King Was this a dream or fancied apparition And now is vanisht like a fleeting vision Could all the world be thus deluded No. 'T was surely reall and no feigned show Those bloudie battels and those dismall fights We lately heard were not like vap'rie sights Compos'd of airie breath which to the eye Two dreadfull Armies grappling do descrie These These were reall and thy direfull steel Victorious Prince shall after ages feel And those deep wounds which in thy furious ire Thou did'st inflict by force of thundring fire Shall leave wide scarres upon the German land Which shall for ever to their terrour stand This thou hast done allready and amaz'd Remotest kingdomes where thy deeds are blaz'd But on a suddain loe thou dost appeare To stop in middle of thy full careere All tongues are silent and our greedie eares Heare nothing now but terrours doubts and fears Or Fame her self is dead or he that gave Life unto Fame is sunk into his grave Fame cannot die Oh! can he die whose look So many thousands dead at once hath struck What mortall durst give him a wound whose eye Hath made grimme Death to start and turn awrie Sure he 's not dead Swethlands for grief would roar And make their groans heard to our English shore If he were dead whom they have priz'd more deare Then their own proper lives and did not fear To runne like Lions at their Princes words Upon the mouthes of Canons points of Swords He 's dead I fear For can he living be And we no spoils nor further conquests see Can he be living and not heard to thunder To batter cities and trample kingdomes under Whose very soul was fire Aethereall pure Such as no mortall bodies can endure His breath was direfull smoke and from his hands Flew show'rs of iron-balls that quell'd whole lands Can that Sulphurious dust more quick then winde Once toucht with flame in prison be combinde Not steel nor iron nor the hardest brasse Can stay its furie for the shortest space Though mighty mountains prest this living flame Yet would it teare them and an entrance frame His Hellish breath and dismall noise to vent Nor would it cease till all his furie spent Thus hath it been with Europes Northern Starre And Swedes Victorious Prince made all for warre Whose Spirit toucht with fire from heav'n did blaze Like to some Comet sent for to amaze And scourge us mortal wights whose direfull breath Doth shoot down vengeance terrours plagues and death Had Turk and Tartar and the Triple crown That awes the Christian world and treadeth down Monarches as slaves themselves in one combin'd This Heav'n-sent furie had like lightning winde Shot through them all and like to scatter'd corn Their feeble squadrons had been rent and torn Till his Celestiall vigour were quite spent No Warres no Ruines could his ire content But now his date is out and his Commission Is stopt from heav'n with a new Prohition He 's dead Oh bitter word enough to make Stones for to weep and iron hearts to ake So soon alasse In so unwisht an houre Is all our joy quell'd by some secret power Why do we not breath forth such dolefull grones And powre such melting tears as should hard stones Dissolve into salt drops that they and we Might so expresse one mournfull Elegie What! are we spent and drie I see no teares I heare no grones no wailings pierce my eares Oh pardon me I fear my faltring tongue Distract with troubled sorrow doth you wrong 'T is slender grief that doth by weeping vent And `t is not much that can by teares be spent But this this sorrow like a mortall wound Strikes deep and doth our senses quite astound Lies like a lump of lead or heavie weight Upon our heart and presses it so straight That neither sigh nor grone can issue thence But lies as dead and quite bereft of sense Since then 't is so we cannot weep let 's borrow From others help for to expresse our sorrow Ye glistring lamps above ye Northern starres That roul about the Pole your frozen Carres In Thetis waves plunge over head and eares That you may have your fill of brinish teares And by sad influence make the heav'ns to low'r And to the earth send down a weeping show'r But chiefly on that place that cursed ground Where Adolph first receiv'd his mortall wound Let never grasse nor verdant hearb grow there Nor any tree nor ground it self appeare Let it be all a lake whose face may look Just like the colour of the Infernall brook Like pichie Stix or black-stream'd Acheron Or like Cocytus or dark Phlegethon That it may seem to all a mourning vail Which doth the compasse of that ground empale And let its murmuring waves make such a noise As may expresse to us the dolefull voice Of some that crie that roar that shreik that groan Of some that mourn that weep that wail that moan That after ages to their children may Tell this sad storie when they passe that way These fouls do mourn for Swethlands conqu'ring King But these whose clamours fearfully do ring Are such as in this place died by his power And thus expresse their horrour to this houre Mean while renowned Prince sleep thou secure No further pains nor travels to endure The dreadfull Cannons which so oft did roar And thunder in thy eares shall now no more Disturb thy rest nor force thee to arise In suddain hast glut now with sleep thine eyes While that a quire of Angels in a ring Shall round about thee blessed musick sing FINIS