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	young_a	youth_n	726	4	8.8271	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A30923	Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts / part I, occasionally written by Mrs. Jane Barker, part II, by several gentlemen of the universities, and others.	Barker, Jane.	1688 (1688)	Wing B770; ESTC R7698	114,866	432

'm sure my Soul will lose her way II. Oh 't is not dark enough I wish it were Some Rays are still on my Eyes Atmosphere Which give sufficient light I find Still to continue me stark blind For to Eyes that 's dazl'd with too radiant light Darkness proves best restorative o' th' light To my Dear Cousin Mrs. M. T. after the Death of her Husband and Son. DEar Coz. I hope by this time you have dry'd At least set bounds to th'almost boundless tide Of flowing Tears I 'm sure my wish is so Which Love and Int'rest does oblige me to For you can bear no Sufferings alone All yours are mine by participation And doubtless all your Friends in some degree Must bear a share if they can love like me Then if not for your own sake yet for ours And in submission to th' Eternal Powers Not only dry your Eyes but chear your Brow And lend us Ioys and we 'll repay them you Rouse up your Soul and shew your self indu'd With Mothers Prudence Fathers Fortitude In other Vertues you have equall'd them In these strive to out-doe your worthy Stem For here Ambition can't excessive be Neither esteemed pride or vanity For when we to the top of Vertue climb We 're sure in no mistake much less a crime But by this brave attempt you shall subdue Cross Fate which otherwise wou'd conquer you But after all that can be said on this I am not ignorant how hard it is To conquer Passions and our selves subdue Though advis'd by Friends and assisted too By the prevailing Powers of Grace from Heav'n Still Counsel's harder to be took than giv'n Not that I thought your Griefs profuse but knew Much to a Son more to a Husband 's due Only remember that our Lord has taught Thy will be done therefore we must in thought As well as words submit to his intents Who can bring good out of the worst Events Whose Mercy oft protracts the bad Man's doom And takes the good Man from the ill to come TO MY Young Lover INcautious Youth why do'st thou so mis-place Thy fine Encomiums on an o'er-blown Face Which after all the Varnish of thy Quill It s Pristine wrinkles shew apparent still Nor is it in the power of Youth to move An Age-chill'd heart to any strokes of Love. Then chuse some budding Beauty which in time May crown thy Wishes in thy blooming prime For nought can make a more preposterou● show Than April Flowers stuck on St. Michael's Bow. To consecrate thy first-born Sighs to me A superannuated Deity Makes that Idolatry and deadly Sin Which otherwise had only Venial been TO MY Young Lover ON HIS VOW I. ALas why mad'st thou such a Vow Which thou wilt never pay And promise that from very now Till everlasting day Thou mean'st to love sigh bleed and dye And languish out thy breath In praise of my Divinity To th' minute of thy Death II. Sweet Youth thou know'st not what it is To be Love's Votary Where thou must for the smallest bliss Kneel beg and sigh and cry Probationer thou should'st be first That thereby thou may'st try Whether thou can'st endure the worst Of Love's austerity III. For Worlds of Beauties always stand To tempt thy willing Eye And Troops of Lusts are at thy hand To vanquish thee or dye And now this Vow exposes thee To th' third of all the worst The Devil of inconstancy That Tempter most accurs'd TO MY Young Lover A SONG TO praise sweet Youth do thou forbear Where there is no desert For alas Encomiums here Are Iewels thrown i' th' dirt For I no more deserve Applause Now Youth and Beauty 's fled Than a Tulip or a Rose When its fair Leaves are shed Howe'er I wish thy Praises may Like Prayers to Heaven born When holy Souls for Sinners pray Their Prayers on them return To my Unkind Friend Little Tom King. I. WEll by experience now I see This World 's made up of flattery Complements and formality Since nought but int'rest now can bind Ev'n old acquaintance to be kind 'T were madness then to hope to find True Friendship in the Modern Crew Of late-contracted Friends Hence then acquaintance all adieu I can't oblige my Friendship to pursue Such dull insipid ends As nought but to a Ceremony tends Since Friendship from old Friends is flown Rather than endure the pratlings The flatteries and the censurings Which a Modish Friendship brings My pensive Dove shall sit and coo alone II. But perhaps it will be said Unlucky Business has this mischief made Business that plausible excuse Of all unkindness to a Friend That Bankrupt that ne'er pays Principle nor Use Of all the Time that e'er we to him lend Yet Bus'ness now 's a Merchant of such Fame That he has got the whole Monopoly Of Time Love Friends and Liberty Of which if there be scarcity Bus'ness is to blame For nought can vended be but in his Name III. Since then the World 's so much to Bus'ness pro●e 'T is time that idle I was gone Alas why do I stay VVhen that canker bus'ness which I hate VVith Int'rest is confederate Eats our pleasant shady Friends away VVe're left obnoxious to the storms of Fate Nay ev'n then the hottest Gleams Of Prosperities brightest Beams Help but to make us dwindle and decay And though we strive our selves to shade Under the closest Rules of Constancy Yet when the Powers of Fate invade That too alas will shake and fade And make us see That though our best Ambition strives To keep a reg'lar harmony Yet Fate will ring her Changes on our Lives Till discordant Death arrives VVho informs us by his latest Knell Whether we have made up this World's Consort well IV. Hence I 'll not murmur then Though some grow Proud and others really Great Or heap up Riches by deceit Since they must pay it all again To Death who rapaciously devours All for which we drudge in vain And sell our ease for fruitless pain All which we like mistaken fools call ours Whilst in some lazie Solitude may I Enjoy my self alone Free from this VVorld's buzzing frantick feuds And sweets and stings of Fate 's Vicissitudes Have nothing else to do but dye I care not who esteems me as a Drone For out o' th' World so secretly I 'll steal That babbling Fame shall not the theft reveal And when I to my long repose am gone My dearest Brother who is gone before Half way will meet me in the Air or more Where we 'll be happy in Excess In Mansions of Eternal blessedness Yet if there can be Any allay of this felicity It will be this when he shall find That I no other news can bring From his Old Friend my Little King But that he was unkind A Second EPISTLE To my Honoured Friend Mr. E. S. I. OFt has my Muse and I fall'n ou● And I as oft have banish'd her my Breast But such alas still was her interest And still to

Vultures or wing'd Navy flyes Under the Tropicks he is understood And brings home Rapine through a Purple Flood New Circulations found our Blood is hurl'd As round the lesser so the greater VVorld In Civil Wars he did us first engage And made Three Kingdoms subject to his rage One fatal stroke slew Iustice and the cause Of Truth Religion and our Sacred Laws So fell Achilles by the Trojan Band Though he still fought with Heav'n it self in hand Nor cou'd Domestick Spoil confine his Mind Nor limits to his fury but Mankind The Brittish Youth in Foreign Coasts are sent Towns to destroy but more to Banishment VVho since they cannot in this Isle abide Are confin'd Pris'ners to the VVorld beside No wonder then if we no tears allow To him who gave us Wars and Ruin too Tyrants that lov'd him griev'd concern'd to see There must be punishment to crueltie Nature her self rejoyced at his Death And on the Halter sung with such a Breath As made the Sea dance higher than before While her glad Waves came dancing to the shore ON THE LAST DUTCH WAR By Mr. Benjamin Willy sometime Master of the Free-School of Newark upon Trent RObb'd of our Rights and by such Water-Rats We 'll doff their Heads if they won't doff their Hats Affront from Hogen Mogen to endure 'T is time to box these Butter-Boxes sure If they the Flag 's undoubted Right deny us And won't strike to us they must be struck by Us. A Crew of Boors and Sooterkins that know Themselves they to our Blood and Valour owe. Did we for this knock off their Spanish Fetters To make 'em able to abuse their Betters If at this rate they rave I think 't is good Not to omit the Spring but let 'em Blood. Rouse then Heroick Britains 't is not Words But Wounds must work with Leather-Apron-Lords They 're deaf and must be talk'd withall alas With Words of Iron spoke by Mouths of Brass I hope we shall to purpose the next bout Cure 'em as we did Opdam of the Gout And when i' th' bottom of the Sea they come They 'll have enough of Mare Liberum Our brandish't Steel tho' now they seem so tall Shall make 'em lower than Low-Countries fall But they 'll e'er long come to themselves you 'll see When we in earnest are at Snick-a-snee When once the Boars perceive our Swords are drawn And we converting are those Boars to Brawn Methinks the Ruin of their Belgick Banners Last Fight almost as ragged as their Manners Might have perswaded 'em to better things Than to be sawcy with the best of Kings Is it of Wealth so proud they are become Charles has a Wain I hope to fetch it home And with it pay himself his just Arrears Of Fishing Tribute for this Hundred years That we may say as all the Store comes in The Dutch alas have but our Factors bin They fathom Sea and Land we when we please Have both the Indies brought to our own Seas For Rich and Proud they bring in Ships by Shoals And then we humble them to save their Souls Pox of their Pictures if we had 'em here We'd find 'em Frames at Tyburn or elsewhere The next they draw be it their Admirals Transpeciated into Finns and Scales Or which wou'd do as well draw if they please Opdam with th' Seven sinking Provinces Or draw their Captains from the conqu'ring Main F●rst beaten home then beaten back again And after this so just though fatal strife Draw their dead Boars again unto the Life Lastly Remember to prevent all Laughter Drawing goes first but Hanging follows after If then Lampooning thus be their undoing Who pities them that purchase their own Ruin Or will hereafter trust their treacheries Untill they leave their Heads for Hostages For as the Proverb thus of Women's said Believe 'em nothing though you think 'em dead The Dutch are stubborn and will yield no Fruit Till like the Wallnut-Tree ye beat 'em to 't THE LAST SAYINGS OF A MOUSE Lately Starved in a Cupboard As they were taken in Short-hand by a Zealous Rat-catcher who listned at the Key-hole of the Cupboard Door WRetch that I am and is it come to this O short continuance of Earthly bliss Did I for this forsake my Country Ease My Liberty my Bacon Beans and Pease Call ye me this the breeding of the Town Which my young Master bragg'd when he came down Fool that I was I heard my Father say A Rev'rend Mouse he was and his Beard gray Young Hunt-crum mark me well you needs must rome And leave me and your Mother here at home Great is your Spirit at high food you aim But have a care believe not lying Fame Vast Bodies oft are mov'd by slender Springs Great Men and Tables are two diff'rent things Assure thy self all is not Gold that shines He that looks always fa● not always dines For oft I 've seen one strut in laced Cloak And at th' same instant heard his Belly croak By sad experience now I find too well Old Hunt-crum was an arrant Sydrophel And must I dye and is there no relief No Cheese though I give over thoughts of Beef Where is grave Madge and brisk Grimalkin now Before whose Feet our Race was wont to bow No Owl no Cat to end my wofull days No Gresham Engine my lean Corps to squeese I 'd rather fall to Foes a noble prey Than squeek my Soul out under Lock and Key● What 's this a pissing Candles latter end My dear beloved Country-Save-all Friend Thou dreadfull Emblem of Mortality Which nothing savour'st of solidity Detested Droll'ry of my cruel Fate This shadow of a Comfort comes too late Now you my Brethren Mice if any be As yet unstarv'd in all our Family From your obscure Retreats rise and appear To your or to your Ghosts I now draw near Unto my pristine dust I hast apace Observe my hollow Eyes and meager Face And learn from me the sad reverse of Fate 'T is better to be innocent than great Good Consciences and Bellies full say I Exceed the pomp that only fills the Eye Farewell you see my friends that knew me once Pamper'd and smooth reduc'd to Skin and Bones Poor as a Church-Mouse O I faint I dye Fly fly from Cat in shape of Famine f●y VVhilst at ●y Death I my Ambition rue In this my Cupboard and my Coffin too Farewell to Victuals Greatness and to you TO THE SECRETARY OF THE MUSES A NEW-YEARS-GIFT IULIAN WIth care peruse the lines I send Which when you 've done you 'll find I am your friend I write not for Applause or if I doe who 'd value the Applause that comes from you Or from your Patrons who of late we see However they 're distinguish'd in degree Forget themselves and grow as dull as thee As often drunk as awkward in their dress Fight with thy courage Court with thy success And when their fond Impertinences fail They strait turn Satyrists and