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	year_n	8,514	5	5.2901	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A14870	A monumental columne, erected to the liuing memory of the euer-glorious Henry, late Prince of Wales. . . By Iohn Webster	Webster, John, 1580?-1625?; Tourneur, Cyril, 1575?-1626. Three elegies.	1613 (1613)	STC 25174; ESTC S101831	6,053	18

or Towers fram'd out of Snow Or like wax-guilded Tapers more for show Then durance Thy foundation doth betray Thy frailty being builded on such clay This shewes the al-controuling power of Fate That all our Scepters and our Chaires of State Are but glasse-mettall that weare full of spots And ●hat like new writ Copies t' auoid blots Dust must bee throwne vpon vs for in him Our comfort sunke and drown'd learning to swim And though he died so late hee 's no more neere To vs then they that died three thousand yeare Before him onely memory doth keepe Their Fame as fresh as his from death or sleepe Why should the Stag or Rauen liue so long And that their age rather should not belong Vnto a righteous Prince whose lengthned yeares Might assist mens necessities and feares Let beasts liue long and wilde and still in feare The Turtle Doue neuer out-liues nine yeare Both life and death haue equally exprest Of all the shortest madnesse is the best Wee ought not thinke that his great triumphs need Our withred taunts Can our weake praise feed His memory which worthily contemnes Marble and Gold and Orientall Gemmes His merits passe our dull inuention And now me-thinkes I see him smile vpon Our fruitlesse tears bid's vs dispeirce these showers And say's his thoughts are farre refin'd from ours As Rome of her beloued Titus said That from the body the bright soule was fled For his owne good and their affliction On such a broken Columne we leane on And for our selues not him let vs lament Whose happinesse is growne our punishment But surely God gaue this as an allay To the blest vnion of that nuptiall day VVee hopt for feare of surfet thought it meete To mittigate since we swell with what is sweete And for sad tales suite griefe 't is not amisse To keepe vs waking I remember this Iupiter one some businesse once sent downe Pleasure vnto the world that shee might crowne Mortals with her bright beames but her long stay Exceeding farre the limite of her day Such feasts and gifts were numbred to present her That shee forgot heauen and the God that sent her Hee cals her thence in thunder at whose lure Shee spreds her wings and to returne more pure Leaues her eye-seeded roabe wherein shee 's suited Fearing that Mortall breath had it polluted Sorrow that long had liu'd in banishment Tug'd at the oare in Gallies and had spent Both mony and her selfe in Court delaies And sadly numbred many of her daies By a prison Kalender though once she brag'd She had bene in great mens bosomes now all rag'd Crawl'd with a Tortoise pace or somewhat slower Nor found shee any that desired to know her Till by good chance ill hap for vs shee found Where Pleasure laid her garment from the ground Shee takes it done's it and to adde a grace To the deformity of her wrinkled face An old Court Lady out of meere compassion Now paints it or'e or puts it into fashion When straight from Country Citty and from Court Both without wit or number there resort Many to this imposter all adore Her haggish false-hood Vsurers from their store Supply her and are cosened Citizens buy Her forged titles riot and ruine flye Spreading their poison vniuersally Nor are the bosomes of great Statesmen free From her intelligence who let 's them see Themselues and fortunes in false perspectiues Some landed Heires consort her with there wiues Who being a baud corrupts their all spent oathes They haue entertain'd the diuill in Pleasures cloaths And since this cursed maske which to our cost Lasts day and night we haue entirely lost Pleasure who from heauen wils vs be aduis'd That our false Pleasure is but Care disguis'd Thus is our hope made frustrate ô sad ruth Death lay in ambush for His glorious Youth And finding him prepar'd was sternely bent To change his loue into fell rauishment O cruell Tyrant how canst thou repaire This ruine though hereafter thou shouldst spare All mankind break thy Dart Ebon Spade Thou canst not cure this wound which thou hast made Now view his death-bed and from thence let 's meet In his example our owne winding sheete There his humility setting apart All titles did retire into his heart O blessed solitarinesse that brings The best content to meane men and to Kings Manna their fates from heauen the Doue there flies With Oliue to the Arke a sacrifice Of Gods appeasement Rauens in their beaks Bring food from heauen Gods preseruation speaks Comfort to Daniel in the Lyons den Where contemplation leads vs happy men To see God face to face and such sweete peace Did he enioy amongst the various presse Of weeping visitants it seem'd he lay As Kings at Reuels sit wisht the crowd away The tedious sports done and himselfe a sleepe And in such ioy did all his sences steepe As great Accountants troubled much in mind When they heare newes of their Quietus sign'd Neuer found prayers since they conuerst with death A sweeter aire to flye in then his breath They left in 's eyes nothing but glory shining And though that sickenesse with her ouerpining Looke gastly yet in him it did not so He knew the place to which he was to go Had larger titles more triumphant wreathes To instate him with and forth his soule he breaths Without a sigh fixing his constant eie Vpon his triumph immortality He was raign'd downe to vs out of heauen drew Life to the spring yet like a little dew Quickly drawne thence so many times miscarries A Christall glasse whilst that the workeman varries The shape i' th' furnace fixt too much vpon The curiousnesse of the proporrion Yet breakes it ere 't be finisht and yet then Moulds it anew and blowes it vp agen Exceeds his workemanship and sends it thence To kisse the hand and lip of some great Prince Or like a dyall broke in wheele or screw That 's tane in peeces to be made go true So to eternity he now shall stand New form'd and gloried by the All-working hand Slander which hath a large and spacious tongue Farre bigger then her mouth to publish wrong And yet doth vtter't with so illagrace Whilst she 's a speaking no man sees her face That like dogges licke foule vlcers not to draw Infection from them butto keepe them raw Thogh she oft scrape vp earth frō good mens graus And wast it in the standishes of slaues To throw vpon their inke shall neuer dare To approach his Tombe be shee confin'd as farre From his sweete reliques as is heauen from hell Not witchcraft shall instruct her how to spell That barbarons language which shall sound him ill Fames lips shall bleed yet nere her trumpet fill VVith breath enough but not in such sicke aire As make waste Elegies to his Tombe repaire VVith scraps of commendation more base Then are the ragges they are writ on ô disgrace To nobler Poesie This brings to light Not that they can but that they cannot write Better they had nere troubled his sweet trance So silence should haue hid their ignorance For hee 's a reuerend subiect to be pend Onely by his sweet Homer and my frend Most sauadge Nations should his death deplore VVishing he had set his foot vpon their shore Onely to hane made them ciuill This blacke night Hath falne vpon 's be Natures ouer-sight Or while the fatall sister sought to twine His threed and keepe it eeuen she drew it so fine It burst O all compos'd of excellent parts Yong graue Me●anas of the noble Arts VVhose beames shall breake forth from thy hollow Tombe Staine the time past and light the time to come O thou that in thy owne praise still wer 't mute Resembling trees the more they are tane with fruit The more they striue to bow and kisse the ground Thou that in quest of man hast truly found That while men rotten vapours do persue They could not be thy friends and flatterers too That despight all iniustice wouldst haue proued So iust a Steward for this Land and loued Right for it owne sake now ô woe the while Flet'est dead in teares like to a mouing I le Time was when Churches in the land were thought Rich Iewel-houses and this Age hath bought That time againe thinke not I faine go view Henry the seuenths Chappell and you 'le find it true The dust of a rich Diamond 's there inshrind To buy which thence would begger the West-Inde What a darke night-peece of tempestious weather Haue the inraged clouds summon'd together As if our loftiest Pallaces should grow To ruine since such Highnesse fell so low And angry Neptune makes his Pallace groane That the deafe Rockes may Ecco the Lands moane Euen senceles things seeme to haue lost their pride And looke like that dead month wherein he died To cleare which soone arise that glorious day VVhich in her sacred Vnion shall display Infinite blessings that we all may see The like to that of Virgils golden Tree A branch of which being slipt there freshly grew Another that did boast like forme and hew And for these worthlesse lines let it be said I hasted till I had this tribute paid Vnto his graue so let the speede excuse The zealous error of my passionate Muse. Yet though his praise heere beare so short a wing Thames hath more Swannes that will his praises sing In sweeter tunes bee-pluming his sad Hearce And his three fethers while men liue or verse And by these signes of loue let great men know That sweete and generous fauour they bestow Vpon the Muses neuer can be lost For they shall liue by them when all the cost Of guilded Monuments shall fall to dust They graue in metle that sustaines no rust Their wood yeelds hony and industrious Bees Kills Spiders and their webs like Irish Trees A Poets pen like a bright Scepter swaies And keepes in awe dead mens dispraise or praise Thus tooke He acquittance of all worldly strife The euening showes the day and death crownes life My Impresa to your Lordship a Swan flying to a Lawrell for shelter the Mot. Amor est mihi causa FINIS Simile The Character of Edward the blacke Prince