Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A51783
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Sylvana a pastoral lamenting the death of our most gracious Queen Mary, of blessed memory / by Mr. Manning.
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Manning, Mr. (Francis), fl. 1688-1716.
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1695
(1695)
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Wing M448A; ESTC R180293
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3,872
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12
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lov'd Sylvana's Barge nor parted till the night Weep all ye River Gods bewail this loss Ye silver Streams bemoan this fatal cross Farewell ye Sheep ye skipping Goats adieu Sylvana walks no more in Fields with you Farewell ye little Kids and tender Lambs A long farewell to Steers and butting Rams Stop ye melodious Brids your tuneful Throats Alas no more delight your warbling notes Sylvana that rejoyced to hear your Charms O wretched Fate is seiz'd by Death's cold Arms. But let sad Philomel her Songs rehearse She varies not from her complaining course Sing mournful Bird thy freedom justly take The Burden of thy Song Sylvana make Ye Pitying Swans a timely offering bring And to the Great Sylvana's Praise your dying Accents Sing Strew Leaves ye Shepherds on the Desart Gound Sylvana Wills it Let no Spring be found Unshaded then in sad Procession move And shew the Sheperdess your latest Love Then raise a Tomb of costly make refin'd Of Whitest Marble suited to her Mind Which done a round it all her Name rehearse And six thereon a Monumental Verse ' Here lies Sylvana hear it every Wind ' The Greatest Fairest best of Womankind ' Unequall'd in her Virtue Wisdom Love ' In Goodness nearest to the Gods above ' Snatcht by Grim Death in her securest State ' All Nature grieves at her untimely Fate ' Grieves that so good a life should have so short a date Mourn British Woods let every Swain deplore Lament each Mymph Sylvana is no more Inexorable Death Thou Bane to Joys Who undistinguishing the World annoys Could'st thou not find amongst the meaner sort An Object fitter for thy fatal Dart Must our Britannia's glory thus be gone Did poor Sylvana ever do thee wrong Oh no! She knew not wrong she was all good The sweetest kindest Nymph of all the Wood. Thou pityless Destroyer of the Fair When all seems calm thou still art making War What could provoke thee to commit this Fact Believe me 't was a bold and daring Act To seize the Shepherdess void of all fear When the Great Shepherd stood himself so near Behold that Shepherd now whom last we Nam'd Lord of this Island much for Hunting fam'd The Lupine-Chase beyond the rest he loves Eager of sport each Year to Gallia roves There Lives a Mighty VVolf of swiftest pace Commanding all the VVoods about the place Unlimited and ready to Devour His Cruelty as boundless as his Power Thither with earnest steps our Swain repairs To ease the Countrey of its raging fears Resolv'd to tame the Monster fierce and wild Or not to leave him till he proves more mild Oft has he made him smart and oft repell'd His Gratest force and oft his Rage has quell'd See where he lies now prostrate on the Greund No Comfort for the Shepherd can be found He who n'ere knew how to Lament or Yield Unconquer'd in the Chase and in the Field Look how he Weeps Expanding both his Arms No more to tast the Lov'd Sylvana's Charms Sylvana is the only word he speaks Sylvana is the only sound he likes Name Business to him Name Affairs of State His Answer still deplores Sylvana's Fate Such Magick in Sylvana's Name appears That tho it heightens Grief 't is Musick to his Ears Mourn British Woods let every Swain deplore Lament each Mymph Sylvana is no more Shee 's gone 't is true without Redemption fled But rests not properly among the Dead Her Soul Immortal as her Fame on Earth Has mounted Heaven and gain'd a second Birth The Good shall always live The actions of the Just Shall ever Bud and Blossom in the Dust Her stop my Muse Now Shepherd let us hast My Flocks by this time want their Noons Repast But first Melampus mind me what I say I shall expect your Muse another Day FINIS