Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	die_v	live_v	soul_n	15,929	5	5.3820	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A84403	An alphabet of elegiack groans, upon the truly lamented death of that rare exemplar of youthful piety, John Fortescue, of the Inner-Temple, esquire / By E.E.	Elys, Edmund, ca. 1634-ca. 1707.	1656 (1656)	Wing E658; Thomason E885_2; ESTC R207316	5,602	16

AN ALPHABET OF Elegiack Groans UPON The truly lamented Death of that Rare Exemplar of Youthful Piety JOHN FORTESCVE Of the Inner-Temple Esquire By E. E. Chronogram DIes MortIs CharIor est nataLe 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 London Printed for Tho. Heath in Russel-street near the Piazza's of Covent-Garden 1656. AN ALPHABET OF Elegiack Groans ELEG I. ALas why sigh I thus why do mine eyes Bubble up sorrow at these obsequies Such outward symptomes of my grief are smal My soul weeps inward at his Funeral That Anguish lurks in secret whose dread smart Wrought into th' Bottom undermines the Heart Tears then adieu only heart-blood can be Convenient drops for such an Elegie I 've lost Half of my Soul Strange Fates that give To one thus spirit-wounded power to live My OTHER I is dead Could Atrop sever Two thus made one so jointly knit together Unless by cutting both Oh no! his Death Hath wrastled out my Life though not my Breath But what shall I confine to mine own Brest This common grief of which the World s possest A springing Cedar's faln so fair so tall That all our Hearts are earthquak'd at his Fall Which was so strangely sudden as his Rise To such Perfections was it doth surprise Us with Amazement that our Faces be Badg'd with that Mark of Grief Stupiditie 'T would seem to ease our sorrows could we raise Our words so high as to compleat his Praise But this we cannot do unless we could Form our rough Brains in so exact a mould As that from them might flow in Teary shoures So many Volumes as He lived houres Yet this we must confess his Parts so rife Made him far fitter for his death than life Earth scarcely knew them for like Stars they were Less in her eye ' cause unto Heav'n more neere He was God's Hidden Treasure no Mans eye View'd all those Riches which in 's soul did lie God now has tane him to his proper place But wresting out the Gem He th broke the Case Yet 't will be made agen by sacred Art The fit Enclosure of his better Part. Why then lament we at his Funerall Ah! though he fell not yet he seems to fall Just like a Star that 's darted through the sky Which seems to fall because it shuns our eye But that our Eyes have lost their dearest sight May Tears conveigh them to the shades of Night My soul oreflows with grief so full's my Thought That like a Bubble it is swolne to nought I 'm grown so stupid that by silence I Can only speak so vast Calamity ELEG II. BE not my Lines Poetick let them Faign That carry sorrow not in Heart but Brain My waters of Affliction or'eflow The Banks of Helicon I cannot show My solid grief in Verse no Muses wing Can bear the weight of my soul-suffering Sad groans and sighs are here articulate These only these can signifie such Fate For when the Sisters Three so throw their Darts They fill each corner of our trembling Hearts With helpless anguish that there be no room To hatch such words as may set forth our Doom What then what shall we do Grief streitly pent Swells up the bigger Pufft Hearts break or vent Shall Fates like Cutters which mens Fortunes drain Thus stop our mouths that we should not complain Ah! though our Tongues be ty'd yet shall our Eyes Drop down Expression of our Miseries ELEG III. COme on Eye-flouds apace 't is ease to weep Those wounds need washing which are struck so deep Least that they putrifie men in distress Made blinde with tears do see their grief the less O doleful Tragedies which mortals finde Shut up within the closet of their minde Where Appetite with Will is discontent The one would not the other must lament So they distractions raise within our Brest And we our selves give to our selves no Rest We joy and mourn and mourn and joy again Now there is Sun-shine then Tempestuous Rain We joy that he 's in Heav'n agen we mourn And wish our selves composed in his Urn. Thus are our Thoughts revolv'd as tho there were No fixed Object which might stay them here Now He is gone who was that Rising Sun Which did attract each Exhalation Of our endeared Hearts like Phaebe He Seems to these eyes of Flesh ecclips'd to be ' Cause our inferior sight of Him 's bereaven By interposed Earth 'twixt us and Heaven Where now He 's firmly seated and shall be A Son of Light to all Eternitie ELEG IV. DEad oh and were mine Ears then made to be A Labyrinth t' inclose mine Agonie Which through their winding caverns let in pain Into my soul ne're to go out again Farewell if He be dead farewell our joyes On sordid Earth farewell those charming toyes The world affords And it shall henceforth be Our Life to think upon Mortalitie Blest Saint that art at rest now flown above The reach of Fate by th'wings o' th' Heav'nly Dove Pardon oh pardon if our teary eyes Bemoan not thine but our own Obsequies Who daily die and which still makes us grieve There 's nothing in us but our Deaths doth live Thy Death is dead not thou O may we then Once die like thee that we ne're die agen ELEG V. EMbleme of Vertue from whose Noble eye Heroick Height mixt with Humilitie Shone forth a peerless Paradox whose soul Divinely big swells out of that weak scroul Which it involv'd So us our griefs compell That since thou went'st to Heav'n Earth seems our Hell And this is our due portion for 't is just That we should faulter with these Clogs of Dust Until Gods love the true Prometheus Fire Our Earthen Hearts shall blessedly inspire By whose ascendent vertue we may be Like Thee rais'd up to Immortalitie ELEG VI. FAith is so weak it cannot see His Joyes or our perplexitie Oh! we have drunk in so much Gall That now we have no Taste at all Black Sorrows wrapt up in a Mist May whiffle us now where they list And like Hob-goblins they conspire To lead our thoughts into the Mire Of stupid anguish where we finde Nought else but that w'have lost our Mind But ah what Friendship is in this That we do so deplore his bliss O tell us not of that our Tears Have like their cause his Death no Ears ELEG VII GReat in true Goodness Rich in Mind As well's in Lands and Birth we find No Epithite fit to set forth The full Encomium of his worth His Youth was Ag'd with Piety Which seem'd of such antiquity That whosoever knew it would Conceit Him in his Nonage Old Er'e He could look abroad to see The Worlds enticing Vanitie God fixt His Eyes on things above Which straight way took his chiefest love And so on Earth of Earth bereaven He hovered 'twixt it and Heaven Fond Ranters shallow Gallantry He rightly judg'd meer slavery To Tyrant Sin Streight-living He Enlarg'd his Soul to Sanctitie Each day he thought upon his last And now at length

in hast He past Out of this World indeed as tho He would not tell us that hee 'ld go So quickly from us lest our Eyes Should shew His Joyes our Miseries And so disturb his pious Breast Rejoycing at approaching Rest He fitly went to Bed so soon Whose very morning was High-noon ELEG VIII HEre let us stay our mournfull looks and see Deaths sums cast up in an Epitome For All our Lives are lost in Him we have Strange Fate our Souls entombed in his Grave Nay 't is not so but thus our Hearts struck dead In our yet walking Corps lie Buried ELEG IX I-nricht with Poverty of Spirit O-n nothing less then His own Merit H-e set his Thoughts His Soul so bright N-ere view'd its own Celestiall light F-ame He abhor'd whose feeble wings O-ft whirleth up the lightest things R-are Vertues as were his do flye T-oo lofty for the Worlds squint Eye E-ach Gem of His rich Mind did even S-end up its Sparks as high as Heaven C-hrist seeing it Divinely good U-nstrips His Soul of Flesh and Blood Those tiresome Rags even so away was hurld Elia's Mantle when he left the World ELEG X. KNow know we not that Death is gain To such as liv'd like Him complain We then for nought why should our Eye Set forth so vain Hydrography Wherein describ'd we seem to see Whole Floods of Sorrow though there be No reason for 't are we bedight With Black for Him on whom The Light Of men so shines are we Distrest Perplext Unquiet at His Rest Le ts not betear our Eyes unlesse it be For want o' th' sight of His Felicitie ELEG XI LO how our Grief rebounds it rages worse When we endeavour to restrain its force The Flood gates of our Eyes set ope the spout Of Tears stopt in will gush the faster out Come sith necessity will have it so Let what gave th' cause give end unto our wo And let 's be plung'd in sadnesse till we find That w'have or'ethrown its resting place our Mind Yea so let this distract our Thoughts that they Ner'e find contentment in these Vaults of Clay ELEG XII MIght we not think 't would come to This that he Spent all his time upon Eternitie As if he came into the world t' obtain An happy passage to get out again Ah how could we expect His longer stay When we perceiv'd him to make hast away Full fraught with Grace unto the joyfull Port Of Bliss unto the King of Kings great Court Where He 's in Glory here in Fame and thus His wished Death makes him Amphibious ELEG XIII NO more be Fates call'd Black sith through them He Has gotten his white cope and liberty From all that Dungeon-darkness which w' are in Whiles hudled up within these Clouds of sin The Thread of 's Life regain'd he now doth see Stretcht through the Ones of all Eternitie Thus Atrop juggleth still with Pious Men And cuts their THREAD to make it whole agen ELEG XIV O That some Seraphim His praise would sing Or lend a Quill pluckt from his heavenly wing Whereby it might be writ for 't does decline His Commendation that is not Divine Young Muses are unskil'd in such grave Theams And hardly can acquire the Sov'raign streams O' th Well of Life for Helicon as should Those that would cast their Verse in such a Mould That it might form his Praise That must not be Verse Rampant which sets forth Humility Pens lightly praising Piety mistake And like bad Pensils blot the work they make Great Ornaments not suited well deface And oft Encomiums mis-exprest disgrace He that would shevv His sacred Worth must be A Limner of Incarnate Sanctitie Which if Men knew both it Him would sure Be thought His fit and only Portraicture ELEG XV. PUmpt Helicon runs muddy and that strain Must needs be jarring that 's wrung out'oth ' brain Distracted with true sorrows vvhich combin'd Root out all Concord ' o th' afflicted Mind Such Lines as should vvear Mourning may not be Drest all-a-mode i' th' garb of Poetry Verse prickt vvith grief goes lame There ner'e appears A Phoebus ' mongst so many Showres of Tears But yet vvee 'l vvrite tho vveakly some may call Perhaps our Faults here artificiall Men stutter most at greatest things 't is fit At such bright Theams to shut the Eyes o' th' Wit That vvhiles our passage stopt vv' are at a stay We may make known the hardnesse of the vvay ELEG XVI QUake Ranter-Gallants and despair to bee Exempt from Deaths untimely stroke sith he Is faln so soon untainted with a Glance Sparkling from Lust or vain Intemperance Which hasten on your Fate whose ev'ry Eye As well as Mouth 's enslav d to Gluttony You live so loosly that your Lives may be Slipt from you by the rrue Mortalitie Then through His Death cast thoughts upon your ovvn And so His Life shall in your lives be shown ELEG XVII RAge Tyrant Death whatever thou canst do Is but to force Him to o'recome thee too As well as this vain World thou strik'st but He Repells thy blow and gains the victory He could not put thee to this shamefull flight Untill that thou hadst first began the Fight Thou strip'st him of His robes 't is true but He Now wears these Trophies that He won from thee ELEG XVIII SOon ripe soon rotten false that Bud which springs So soon in Grace shall by the King of Kings Prun'd by his servant Deaths all-cutting knife Ingraffed be into the Tree of Life Rotten Oh no our soon-ripe Saint puts on A Life that ne're shall see Corruption 'T was time for Him to leave the world for even Here upon Earth His soul was fixt on Heaven ELEG XIX TEll us no more of Lands and Wealth we see They are nought else but winged vanity They flye from us or we from them but they Who from the Treasure of Gods Word convey True wealth into their sacred souls shall be Alive in death and rich in Povertie Hence 't was renowned peerless Saint that thou Wouldst scarce look down upon these things below But shutting thine exterior Eye didst finde The sure sight i' th' eye of thy cleer Minde ELEG XX. VNruly passions shall we still Go mourning thus against our will We know 't is vain to grieve again Our knowing this is all in vain W' are so entrapt i' th' Fates dire gin That strugling clasps us faster in Our hearts with sorrow frozen thaw At the Sun-beams of Reason's Law And so the Knowledge that our Plaints are vain Sith it can't help makes us the more complain ELEG XXI WE on this subject can't be dry Whiles Helicon flows in our Eye Our heart 's the pumpe of sorrow so It 's full still of successive woe That when it is exhaust by th' Pen There springs up new to fill 't agen Our lighter Thoughts may make us weep Some in our souls are sunk So deep That they can't be fetcht up by Art Unless the Tripod of our Heart Should be made visible from whence Phaebus might spend his Eloquence But now alas sith that we finde No Embleme to set forth our Minde How shall we shew our griefs which are Too weighty to be born i' th' Aire Or eke transported by a Quill To publike view Go too we will Add this grief more unto the rest That our vast Griefs can't be exprest ELEG XXII YOung Saint Farewel My work is done Although it want perfection But when we speak unfaigned grief The largest Rhet'rick's to be brief He that doth thus himself bemoan Can't make an artificial Groan His shatter'd words he will so state As shaken by the hand of Fate Whoever has a soul like me Disturbed with an Extasie Thrown on me by Deaths forked Dart Shot through the White of my sad heart Wherein was seated He in whom Now dead I see alive my doom I le Groan no more by book the Smart Of whipping Fate makes me by heart To learn such groans as do rebound Upon our Breasts with Silent Sound These chiefly mount to Heavens Ears Accompany'd with unwept Tears Which a soul-seeing Eye may finde Congeal'd within our stupid Minde Farewel Blest Saint a Farewel's onely true To them like thee that bid the World adieu 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 FINIS