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	life_n	power_n	7,240	5	5.0896	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A95827	Poems, with the tenth Satyre of Iuvenal Englished. By Henry Vaughan, Gent.	Vaughan, Henry, 1622-1695.; Juvenal. Satura 10. English.	1646 (1646)	Wing V124; Thomason E1178_3; ESTC R210035	16,067	91

POEMS WITH The tenth SATYRE of IUVENAL ENGLISHED By Henry Vaughan Gent. Tam nil nullâ tibi vendo Illiade LONDON Printed for G. Badger and are to be sold at his shop under Saint Dunstans Church in Fleet-street 1646. To all Ingenious Lovers OF POESIE Gentlemen TO you alone whose more refined Spirits out-wing these dull Times and soare above the drudgerie of durty Intelligence have I made sacred these Fancies I know the yeares and what course entertainment they affoord Poetry If any shall question that Courage that durst send me abroad so late and revell it thus in the Dregs of an Age they have my silence only Languescente seculo liceat aegrotari My more calme Ambition amidst the common noise hath thus exposed me to the World You have here a Flame bright only in its owne Innocence that kindles nothing but a generous Thought which though it may warme the Bloud the fire at highest is but Platonick and the Commotion within these limits excludes Danger For the Satyre it was of purpose borrowed to feather some slower Houres And what you see here is but the Interest It is one of his whose Roman Pen had as much true Passion for the infirmities of that state as we should have Pitty to the distractions of our owne Honest I am sure it is and offensive cannot be except it meet with such Spirits that will quarrell with Antiquitie or purposely Arraigne themselves These indeed may thinke that they have slept out so many Centuries in this Satyre and are now awaked which had it been still Latine perhaps their Nap had been Everlasting But enough of these It is for you only that I have adventured thus far and invaded the Presse with Verse to whose more noble Indulgence I shall now leave it and so am gone H. V. To my Ingenuous Friend R. W. WHen we are dead and now no more Our harmles mirth our wit and score Distracts the Towne when all is spent That the base niggard world hath lent Thy purse or mine when the loath'd noise Of Drawers Prentises and boyes Hath left us and the clam'rous barre Items no pints i' th' Moone or Starre When no calme whisp'rers wait the doores To fright us with forgotten scores And such aged long bils carry As might start an Antiquary When the sad tumults of the Maze Arrests suites and the dreadfull face Of Seargeants are not seene and wee No Lawyers Ruffes or Gownes must fee When all these Mulcts are paid and I From thee deare wit must part and dye Wee 'le beg the world would be so kinde To give 's one grave as wee 'de one minde There as the wiser few suspect That spirits after death affect Our soules shall meet and thence will they Freed from the tyranny of clay With equall wings and ancient love Into the Elysian fields remove Where in those blessed walkes they 'le find More of thy Genius and my mind First in the shade of his owne bayes Great BEN they 'le see whose sacred Layes The learned Ghosts admire and throng To catch the subject of his Song Then Randolph in those holy Meades His Looers and Amyntas reads Whilst his Nightingall close by Sings his and her owne Elegie From thence dismiss'd by subtill roades Through airie paths and sad aboads They 'le come into the drowsie fields Of Lethe which such vertue yeelds That if what Poets sing be true The streames all sorrow can subdue Here on a silent shady greene The soules of Lovers oft are seene Who in their lifes unhappy space Were murther'd by some perjur'd face All these th' inchanted streames frequent To drowne their Cares and discontent That th' inconstant cruell sex Might not in death their spirits vex And here our soules bigge with delight Of their new state will cease their flight And now the last thoughts will appeare They 'le have of us or any here But on those flowry banks will stay And drinke all sense and cares away So they that did of these discusse Shall find their fables true in us Les Amours TYrant farewell This heart the prize And triumph of thy scornfull eyes I sacrifice to Heaven and give To quit my sinnes that durst believe A Womans easie faith and place True joyes in a changing face Yet e're I goe by all those teares And sighs I spent 'twixt hopes and feares By thy owne glories and that houre Which first inslav'd me to thy power I beg faire One by this last breath This tribute from thee after death If when I 'm gone you chance to see That cold bed where I lodged bee Let not your hate in death appeare But blesse my ashes with a teare This influxe from that quickning eye By secret pow'r which none can spie The cold dust shall informe and make Those flames though dead new life partake Whose warmth help'd by your tears shall bring O're all the tombe a sudden spring If Crimson flowers whose drooping heads Shall curtaine o're their mournfull heads And on each leafe by Heavens command These Emblemes to the life shall stand Two Hearts the first a shaft withstood The second shot and washt in bloud And on this heart a dew shall stay Which no heate can court away But fixt for ever witnesse beares That hearty sorrow feeds on teares Thus Heaven can make it knowne and true That you kill'd me 'cause I lov'd you To Amoret The Sigh NImble Sigh on thy warme wings Take this Message and depart Tell Amoret that smiles and sings At what thy airie voyage brings That thon cam'st lately from my heart Tell my lovely foe that I Have no more such spies to send But one or two that I intend Some few minutes ere I dye To her white bosome to commend Then whisper by that holy Spring Where for her sake I would have dyed Whilst those water Nymphs did bring Flowers to cure what she had tryed And of my faith and love did sing That if my Amoret if she In after-times would have it read How her beauty murther'd mee With all my heart I will agree If shee 'le but love me being dead To his Friend Being in Love ASke Lover ere thou dyest let one poor breath Steale from thy lips to tell her of thy Death Doating Idolater can silence bring Thy Saint propitious or will Cupid fling One arrow for thy palenes leave to trye This silent Courtship of a sickly eye Witty to tyranny She too well knowes This but the incense of thy private vowes That breaks forth at thine eyes and doth betray The sacrifice thy wounded heart would pay Aske her foole aske her if words cannot move The language of thy teares may make her love Flow nimbly from me then and when you fall On her breasts warmer snow O may you all By some strange Fate fixt there distinctly lye The much lov'd Volume of my Tragedy Where if you win her not may this be read The cold that freez'd you so did strike me dead Song AMyntas goe thou art