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death_n die_v life_n see_v 16,095 5 3.5035 3 true
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A87057 Poems. By W.H. Hammond, William, b. 1614. 1655 (1655) Wing H626; Thomason E1604_1; ESTC R208440 19,703 87

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of knowledge sucks divinity With Angels on an honest bed of leaves Redintegrated Paradise conceaves For Heaven is onely Gods revealed face So these make Paradise and not the place The World JS this that goodly Edifice So gaz ' d upon by greedy eyes A sceane where cruelty's exprest Or Stage of folly es at the best Who can the Musick understand From the soft touch of Natures hand When man her chiefest Instrument So harshly jarres without consent Do not her naturall agents too Faile in their operations so That he to whom they best appeare Sees but the Tombes of what they were Her chiefest Actions then are such That no externall sense may touch Shown doubtfully to the minds sight By the dark Phancy's glimmering light The Night indeed which hideth all Things else discloseth the Stars pale And sickly faces but our sense Cannot perceive their Influence They are the hidden books of Fate Where what with paines we calculate And doubt is onely plainly known To those assist their motion The close conveyances that move With silent vertue from above Incessantly on things below Our duller eyes can never know Nothing but colour shape and light Create their species in our sight All substances avoyd the sense Close couched under accidents In which attir'd by nature we Their loose apparell onely see Spirits alone Intuitive Can to the heart of essence dive Why then should we desire to sleep Groveling like swine in mire so deep The mind for breath can find no way Choak'd up and crowded into clay Stript of the flesh in the clear spring Of Truth she bathes her soring wing On whom do all Ideas shine Reflected from the Glasse divine Gray Haires WElcome gray haires whose light I gladly trust To guide me to my peacefull bed of dust My lifes bright Stars whose wakefull eyes shut mine Stand on my head as Tapers on my shrine The worlds grand noise of nothing which invades My soule exclude from deaths approaching shades But as the day is usher'd in by one And the same Star that shewes the day is done This twilight of my head this doubtfull sphear My Bodys Evening my soules Morning Star Th' allay of white amongst the browner haires As well the birth as death of day declares As he whom from the Hill saw the moist Tomb Of earth together with her pregnant womb This mingled colour with ambiguous strife Demonstrates my decaying into life Thus life and death compound the world Each weed That fades revives by sowing its own seed Matter suppos'd the whole Creation Is nothing but form and privation No borrow'd tresses then no cheating dy Shall to false life my dying locks bely I shall a perfect Microcosme grow When as the Alpes I crowned am with snow I will beleive this white the milky way Which leads unto the Court of endlesse day Then let my life's flame so intensely burn That all my haires may into ashes turn Whence may arise a Phoenix to repay With Hallelujahs this Eygnean lay A Dialogue upon death Phillis Damon Phil DAmon amidst the blisses we In joynt affections fully prove Doth it not sometimes trouble thee To think that death must part our love Dam Though sweets concentrate in thy armes And that alone I revell there A willing prisoner to those charmes Love cannot teach me death to fear Phil Say of these sweets I should beguile Thy tast by my inconstancie And on thy rivall Thyrsis smile Would not that losse work grief in thee Dam Oh nothing more For here to be Is Hell and thy embraces lack Yet is it Heaven even without thee To dye Then onely art thou black Phil Then onely art thou black my dear When death shall blast thy vitall light Whilst I in lifes bright day appear Thou sleepst forgot in deaths sad Night Dam Thou art thick-sighted couldst thou see Farre off the other side of death Would such a prospect open thee As thou must needs be sick of breath Phil How can that be when sense doth keep The dore of pleasure That destroyed The soule if it survive must sleep Senselesse of delectation voyd Dam Sense is the doore of such delight As beasts receive through which alas Since Nature's nothing but a fight More enemies then friends do passe Nor is the soule lesse capable But naked doth her object prove More truely as more sensible Is this fair hand stript of its glove Phil My Damon sure hath sufeirted Of Phillis and would fain get hence Yet mannerly he vailes his dead Love under a divine pretence Dam Whilst I am flesh thou needst not fear Of love in my warm breath a dearth For since affections earthly are They must love thee the fairest Earth Phil If thou receive a certain good Of pleasure in enjoying me 'T is wisedome then to period Thy wishes in a certainty Dam Joyes reap'd on earth like grasped aire Away even in enjoyment fly Certain are onely such as bear The stampt of immortality Phil Shall we for hope of future blisse The good of present Love neglect Who will a Wren possest dismisse A flying Eagle to expect Dam Who use not here the Heavenly way And in desire of thither go Will at their death uncertain stray Losing themselves in endlesse wo Phil Since death such hazards wait upon Ile unfrequent love's vain delight And wing my contemplation For prea-equaintance with that height Dam Come then let 's feed our flocks above On Sions hill so will delights Grow fresher in the vale of Love Change thus may whet chafte appetites Death SUnk eyes cold lips chaps faln cheeks pale and wan Are onely bugbeares falsely frighting man This is the vizard not deaths proper face For who looks through it with the eye of Grace Shall find death deckt in so divine a ray That none would be such a self-foe to stay In mortall Clouds did not the wiser hand Of supreme power joyn with his strict command Pangs in our dissolution which all shun But would wish if they knew life then begun Man is a Creature mixt of Heaven and Earth Of beast and Angell when he leaves this breath He is all Angell The Soules future eye Is by the prospect of Etern●ty Determin'd onely who content doth rest With present good no better is then Beast The heathens prov'd since the soule cannot find In Natures store to satisfie the mind Her essence Supernat'rall and shall have Her truest object not before the Grave Could I surmise the Immateriall mate Of this dull flesh should languish after fate Like widdowed Turtles or the glimmering light Bereav'd of her dark lanthorn should be quite Blown out by death or dwell on faithlesse mire Inhopitable fens like foolish fire Wandring through dismal vales of horrid night Th' approach of death deservedly might fright But faiths clear eye more certainely surveyes Then any optick Organ for the rayes That shew her object to us are divine Reflected by Th' omniscient Christalline They then who surely know death leade●h right To a vast Sea