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	raise_v	9,308	5	6.9695	4	true

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ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A11194	The tvvo famous pitcht battels of Lypsich, and Lutzen wherein the ever-renowned Prince Gustavus the Great lived and died a conquerour: with an elegie upon his untimely death, composed in heroick verse by John Russell, Master of Arts, of Magdalene Coll. in Cambridge.	Russell, John, d. 1688.; Russell, John, d. 1688. Elegie upon the death of the most illustrious and victorious Prince Gustavus Adolphus King of Swethland &c. aut	1634 (1634)	STC 21460; ESTC S116282	35,062	94

utmost force But when the Signall was again resounded The cheerfull Souldiers as no whit astounded Strictly did each embrace his Camerade And Must we charge them once again they said Then let us bravely and with manly Hearts And like true Souldiers act our latest parts Then with such rage and furie did they close As if they had reserved all their blowes For this last onset and those new-come Bands Did quickly feel their over-weightie hands They found that though the light did still decrease Yet the stout Swethes would not their furie cease After they had sustained for a while Their rough encounter and no little spoil They did betake them to a shamefull flight Under protection of the wings of Night Leaving the field to their victorious foes Who on the same their wearied limbes repose Among his wounded Friends and Enemies On the cold ground the conqu'ring Souldier lies And ne're complaineth of so hard a Bed Where VICTORIE her pleasing arms hath spread FINIS AN ELEGIE UPON THE IMMATURE AND MUCH LAMENTED DEATH OF that most Christian Souldier and Renowned Prince GVSTAVVS THE GREAT King of Swethes Goths and Vandals c. Composed immediately after the first rumour of his death by JOHN RUSSELL ¶ Printed by the Printers to the Vniversitie of CAMBRIDGE 1634. An Elegie upon the death of the King of SWEDEN WHat strange sad silence doth the world astound Why doth not Fames still echoing 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 praisse to Sweds victorious King Was this a dream and fanci'd 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 didst inflict by force of thundring fire Shall leave wide scarres upon the Germane land Which shall for ever to their terrour stand This thou hast done alreadie and amaz'd Remotest kingdomes where thy deeds are blaz'd But on a sudden loe thou dost appeare To stop in middle of thy full career 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 strook What mortall durst give him a wound whose eye Hath made grimme Death to start and turn awrie Sure he 's not dead Swethland for grief would roar And make their grones 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 Cannons 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 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 combin'd Not steel nor iron nor the hardest brasse Can stay its furie for the shortest space Though mightie mountains prest this living flame Yet would it tear them and an entrance frame His Hellish breath and dismall noise to vent Nor would it cease till all its furie 's spent Thus hath it been with Europes Northern Starre And Sweds 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 mortall wights whose direfull breath Doth shoot down vengeance terrours plagues death Had Turk and Tartar and the Triple Crown That awes the Christian world and treadeth down Monarchs as slaves themselves in one combin'd This Heav'n-sent Furie had like lightning winde Shot through them all and like to scatt'red 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 Prohibition He 's dead Oh bitter word enough to make Stones for to weep and iron hearts to ake So soon alas in so unwisht an houre Is all our joy quell'd by some secret power Why do not we then breathe such dolefull grones And poure 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 tears 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 pincheth it so strait 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 so to expresse our sorrow Ye glistring lamps above ye Northern starres That roll about the Pole your frozen Carres In Thetis waves plunge over head and eares That ye may have your fill of brinish teares And by sad influence make the heav'ns to lowre And to the earth send down a weeping showre But chiefly on that place that cursed ground Where Adolph first receiv'd his mortall wound Let never grasse nor verdant herb 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 th' Infernall brook Like pitchie Styx or black-stream'd Acheron Or like Cocytus or dark Phlegethon That it may seem to all a mourning vail That doth the surface of that ground empale And let its murm'ring waves make such a noise As may expresse to us the dolefull voice Of some that crie that roar that shriek that grone Of some that mourn that weep that wail that mone That after-ages to their children may Tell this sad storie when they passe that way These souls do mourn for Swethlands conqu'ring King But these whose clamours fearfully do ring Are such as in this place di'd by his power And thus expresse their horrour to this houre Meanwhile Renowned Prince sleep thou secure No further pains nor travels to

who it was that gave their mortall blow Nor here can any one with shining blade Revenge the death of his slain Camerade But all their vengefull splene they do at large And at adventure in the aire discharge But 'mong the sturdie Pikes 't was otherwise Their Furie is directed by their eyes And at the sight of their enraged foe Redoubled courage in their hearts did flow Here were two Captains met with pike and targe Like furious Rammes they do each other charge Till at the last the thorough-piercing steel Made one of them begin to faint and reel His valour doth outlive his strength for so When now he cannot wound his conqu'ring foe Forward he falls that he may ne're be found To have shrunk back or yeelded any ground Then being down threatnings in vain doth breathe Calls on his souldiers to revenge his death Who fir'd with shame and rage with one joynt push The short-surviving Conquerer o'rerush He falls upon his foe whom but of late With steadie spear his arm did penetrate Now with loud shouts and vengefull cries they rear Their angrie spirits farre above all fear Full on the points of spears they forward runne There is not one that wounds or death doth shunne Now had they rais'd within a little while Over these Chieftains corps a fun'rall pile Of slaughtred bodies For it seem'd they meant Their Captains should not want a Monument Two brave Conductours here brought on their bands To trie the vigour of their hearts and hands The valour of their souldiers they excite Not now with words but with exampled fight Had you but seen two Bulls in furie meet Spurning the yellow sand with angrie feet And forward then with headlong force to rush Till that their horns do make the blood to gush From many wounds and their black-speckled Hide By this be with another colour di'd Then might you have conjectur'd with what spight And burning rage these two brave Souldiers fight This on his sword relies with it doth hew And nimbly cut the others spear in two But he as lightly from his side doth snatch A readie pistoll which did over-match His neare-hand-threatning sword and in a trice Quite through his breast the fire-sent bullet flies See! here another with his stretcht-out pike Quite through the bodie of his foe doth strike But ere he back again the same could pluck He with another through the heart is struck And now his vanquisht foe with joyfull eye Beholds his Victour on the ground to lie There might you see a noble-courag'd Swethe Advance himself without all fear of death His furious ire made him alone intend To kill and wound not caring to defend A big-bon'd Germane meets him at the point And with their spears they rush so equall joint That both at once were wounded both withall Began to sink and both at once did fall Not farre from hence you might have seen a crew Of sturdie lads that thrust and hack and hew An Ensigne they had slain but could not yet Into their hands his waving colours get Oft had they stoupt to take them from the ground But from their foes such hindrance still they found Who doubled on their heads such frequent blowes That look who stoupt again he never rose Now was the furie of the fight grown hot The aire resounded with their frequent shot Fair Victorie on both their Hosts doth gaze And doth behold their courage with amaze Now these observes then those again beheld Knowes not as yet to which her self to yeeld Like to some novice Virgin whom a Crew Of am'rous Youths with eager suits pursue Her minde from fixing for a while she drawes And yet delights on ev'ry one to pause Denies not any yeeldeth unto none To all alike het equall love is shown Have you not seen a field of yellow wheat Upon whose tops some gentle windes do beat They seem to bend and backward for a while Compell'd by force they orderly recoil Then reassuming vigour with a blast They bend themselves forward again in haste Such was the manner of these warlike Forces Who seem'd to charge with interchanging courses Now forward rusht the Swethlanders anon They back retire th' Imperialists come on And with such furie charge them as if they At that encounter would have wonne the day But finding good resistance this their heat Is quickly cool'd and backward they retreat The Swethes and Almains now with doubled might Renew the vigour of this bloudie fight March o're the bellies of their slaughtred foes And strictly preasse them with unsparing blowes But here a Regiment in this their Rage Fearing themselves too farre for to engage Among their circling enemies did sound A fair retreat and yeeld their conqu'red ground Thus did the well-experienc'd Swethes who knew When to retire and when they might pursue They did not their rough charges here perform Like to the rage of some unguided storm Or like the furie of an headlesse rude Confused and disord'red multitude But as one bodie with so many hands Move all at once obeying the commands Of one Conductour who ev'n as a Soul These Organs doth direct guide and controll It is not Furie nor a fearlesse Heart That winnes the day but Valour mixt with Art This did the Saxons finde who now begun Disorderly to waver and to shunne The rage of their approaching foe who farre Did them excell in discipline of warre And had in often combatings and fights Learn'd many Martiall Stratagems and slights Long did the Saxon Troups stiffely sustain Their rough encounter and a while maintain The Conquest doubtfull Their dismangled bands They fill again with other fighting hands Advancing forward with a fearlesse face Each striving to defend his fellows place Who at his feet did now half-murdred lie Staining the verdant grasse with crimson die But still their foes prest on who too well knew The least advantage gained to pursue Then did they stagger and scarce willing are Their shatt'red ranks and order to repair But flying back in heaps by force and fear They break the ranges of their troups in Rear Words now and threatnings are of small avail Their Duke himself could not as then prevail With fair entreatings nor with rough commands To stay the flight of his disscatt'red bands Where flie you Cowards Think you thus to shunne The slaughtring sword You cannot sure out-runne The nimble horse who now without all trouble Will cut you off and tread you down like stubble Turn turn again once more your forces trie Stand to your arms this is the way to flie From threatning dangers Boldly your breasts oppose And not your backs to your encountring foes See! the brave Swethes still fairly stand in range Nor yet for fear or dread will breake or change Shall we forsake them that have come thus farre To undertake for us this dang'rous warre The world will brand us with eternall shame And after-Ages will deride our Name Fear made them deaf and now their Princes words

hazard of a Fight The sunne-burnt Spaniards too were present there And if proud looks their Enemies could fear Sure though but few they were yet they alone A greater Armie would have overthrown Th' Italian now renowned more by farre For am'rous Courtship then for skill in Warre Yet hither came resolved for to die Or to defend Romes hated Monarchie And now my Muse repeat each great Commander That did attend Swedens Imperiall Standard For sure it is not fit their Names should die Or yet in dark oblivion buried lie Duke Bernard the sole Glorie of the day The Left Wing did for their prime Guide obey The King himself did the Right Wing command And at the Head of Steinbocks Troups did stand The Battell was conducted by Grave Neel A valiant Swethe and clad in shining steel Betwixt them and the Rear a compleat Band Of Musquettiers did Hinderson command A hardie and experienc'd Scot whom Fame Hath in these warres eternis'd with a Name The Battell of the Rear Knipphausen led A Noble Souldier and a skilfull Head To whose fair conduct did their Enemies owe The greatest part of their sad overthrow The Right Wing Bulach led a Colonell Of no small Spirit as his foes can tell Ernest of Anhalt did the Left Wing guide A man in Warres well exercis'd and tri'd Behinde their backs and in the utmost Rear A Regiment of Horse reserved were Which are by Oeme conducted whose stout heart Not any dangers could have made to start Now had GVSTAVVS speech his souldiers fir'd And double vigour into them inspir'd Make me sayes he your Pattern if you see That once I shrink I give you leave to flee This having spoken without further pause With speedie hand his shining blade he drawen Then waving't o're his head he doth advance Toward his Foes with fearlesse countenance And now their throats those fierie Engines stretch Whose sound and furie such a distance reach And ere one can behold or see his Foe Doth wound him deadly with a farre-sent blow In Aetna's sulph'rie cell inclos'd doth lie If we will credit grave Antiquitie A Monstrous Giant who is prison'd there For that to fight ' gainst Heav'n he did not fear As often as he turns his sides for room He fills Trinatria with a pitchie fume Disgorging from his hellish jawes such smoke And duskie flames as the pure aire do choak Ev'n thus black Lutzen for a time did shroud Her mournfull face within a pitchie cloud Proceeding from the Cannons fierie breath That ne'r speaks lesse then slaughtring wounds death No sight doth now appeare but the bright blaze Which the inflamed sulph'rie dust doth raise Here many Noble Spirits who did scorn To shrink for dangers were in sunder torn By those resistlesse Balls whose furious Course Cannot be stopt by any humane force Oh how my Muse deplores the Fates of those Who nothing wisht but to behold their foes That so their Valour when they once had tri'd Might by their Enemies be testifi'd Some murd'ring shot their noble thoughts prevents And furiously their corps in sunder rents And which their manly hearts could not endure Kills them within a cloud of smoke obscure The angrie Steeds offended at the noise That thundred from the Cannons iron jawes Do fling and spurn and scarce the curbing rein Can their proud sp'rits in any rank contain They fain would rush through midst of smoke and fire As if their breasts did burn with greater Ire The slaughtred heaps that round about them lie Cannot at all their Courage terrifie The brazen Trumpet Echoes in their eares Whose pleasing sound doth fright away all feares What Muse is able to rehearse or tell What direfull slaughters in this fight befell When humane Bodies onely do oppose Against the Cannons castle-rending blowes Whose Furie would make hardest rocks to shiver Whose very sound doth make the earth to quiver Whose hellish breath is able to command Most firm-cemented stones to fly like sand Squadrons of men were too weak walls to stay Such dreadfull force as would have found a way Through Rocks of hardest iron and would make A spatious Tower with its blast to shake No wonder then to see the field so spread With scatt'red limbes and bodies strucken dead When as the Cannon and the Culvering Their flaming furie round about do fling A murd'ring Curto here a rank doth spoil And there another sweeps away a file A brace of Demi-cannons here doth play Which through a squadron make a rugged way So blustring Boreas when his rage he doubles And Sea and Land with furious motion troubles From sturdiest Oaks their rended branches throwes And all the field with these his ruines strowes The unaffrighted Swethes marcht forward still And up again those breaches quickly fill Valiant GVSTAVVS with an angrie eye Sees how his foes their greater shot did ply With too too much advantage for he found Their Pieces mounted on the higher ground And on firm platforms the Imperialist His Ordinance could traverse as he list While that the Swedish more uncertainly Did in their motion at their Foes let flie The Swethes had left them now no other way To hinder this their so unequall play But on their Cannons mouthes to march and so To stop their throats and make them overthrow Their own defenders For these Engines are Of such a hellish temper that they care Neither for friend nor foe but both alike With equall slaughter will their furie strike In ancient fights when as they us'd t' advance In their first front a square of Elephants Who wheresoe're their unresisted force They chanc'd to bend they made an headlong course And with their massie Bodies over-laid All that their furie would have checkt or staid Sometime on their own Squadrons they would turn And under feet their chiefest friends would spurn With such a vengefull Rage as if that those They had mistaken for their deadliest foes Thus in these modern Warres it oft doth chance That the loud-roaring Shot and Ordinance Being once reverst upon their friends will thunder And without mercie tear their ranks in sunder Courage my Hearts cries Swethlands noble King And then his troups through show'rs of lead doth bring Just in the Cannons face who roar'd and spake So loud that all the neighb'ring Hills did quake But in their way a traverse ditch was made From whence with frequent shot their Enemies plaid Full in their teeth This trench them safe did hide And made them all the Swedish shot deride Till the provoked Swethes came storming on And made them wish them further off and gone At that same time the Crabats had a minde To fall upon their carriages behinde To seise upon their Arms and Ammunition And to blow up their Powder and Provision Bulach observes them with a watchfull eye He charg'd them home and made them quickly flie These light-arm'd Crabats never use to stand For any space and fight it hand to hand But if at first encounter they have mist They