Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	know_v	life_n	lord_n	8,945	5	3.7338	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A12605	Pandora, the musyque of the beautie, of his mistresse Diana. Composed by Iohn Soowthern Gentleman, and dedicated to the right Honorable, Edward Deuer, Earle of Oxenford, &c. 1584. Iune. 20	Southern, John, fl. 1584.	1584 (1584)	STC 22928; ESTC S111056	12,018	31

dolefull arrow Next Into a Swan and with a note of sorrowe I foresong my death in Elegicall arte Since that to a Flowre and since withred away Since that to a Fountaine and since I am drie And now that Salamander liue in my flame But ye Gods if euer I haue my owne choyce I wyll be turn'd into well singing voyce And there in louange the fayre eyes of Ma-dame Ode 2. to his Diana Strophe AS the little Melisset flyes Wanton enfantines of the Skyes With their théeuishe pretie tongettes Take the best of the fayrest blomes Masoning it on their thyettes And therewith build their honny commes Euenso with a sprite vigelant I robbe héere the most excellant Blossomes in the garden Thebêin And will that through the vniuerce The honny destyld in my verce Beare out these fayre gréene eies of thine And I will that our England sée By this Nectar that I let fall On thee to annoint thee with all What kinde of beauties are in thée Antistrophe All the superbus frontispisses And all the threatning ediffices And all the high buildinges are lost Of Corinthia in pride extréeme But that which their Poets did bost will euer triumph ouer tyme. I I golde is Eliths Palase And golde is the Church of Parnasse And those that can enter therein Happy are they and euer shall Treade on the blacke roofe enfernall Liuing with the enfant Troyen That fylles the Nectar Olympien Into the great coope of the God that thondred the menacing head Of the high Orgullus Phlegren What what my too cruell Diana A number haue excelde in Beautae And yet it is onelie Hellina That lyues and where in saue in Poisae Epode But thou for whome I writ so well And that I wyll make eternell And thou for whome my holie paines Dooth chase ignoraunce held so long Conioyning in a vulgar song The secretes both Gréekes and Lataines Think'st thou it is nothing to haue The penne of Soothern for thy trompet Yes yes to whome Soothern is Poëte The honour goes not to the graue And Iuno it 's an other thing To heare a well learned voice sing Or to sée workes of a wise hand Then it 's to heare our doting rimors Whose labours doo bring both dishonors To themselues and to our England FINIS ❧ Foure Epytaphes made by the Countes of Oxenford after the death of her young Sonne The Lord Bulbecke c. HAd with moorning the Gods left their willes vndon They had not so soone herited such a soule Or if the mouth tyme dyd not glotton vp all Nor I nor the world were depriu'd of my Sonne Whose brest Venus with a face dolefull and milde Dooth washe with golden teares inueying the skies And when the water of the Goddesses eyes Makes almost aliue the Marble of my Childe One hyds her leaue styll her dollor so extreme Telling her it is not her young sonne Papheme To which she makes aunswer with a voice inflamed Féeling therewith her venime to be more bitter As I was of Cupid euen so of it mother And a womans last chylde is the most beloued An other IN dolefull wayes I spend the wealth of my time Gold the best of all mettelles Nightingale the sweetest of all byrdes And Roses the fairest of all flowers Féeding on my heart that euer comes agen Since the ordinaunce of the Destin's hath ben To end of the Saissons of my yéeres the prime With my Sōne my Gold my Nightingale and Rose Is gone for t' was in him and no other where And well though mine eies run downe like fountaines here The stone wil not speak yet that doth it inclose And Destins and Gods you might rather haue tanne My twentie yéeres then the two daies of my sonne And of this world what shall I hope since I knoe That in his respect it can yéeld me but mosse Or what should I consume any more in woe When Destins Gods and worlds are ll in my losse An other THe heuens death and life haue coniured my yll For death hath take away the breath of my sonne The heuens receue and consent that be hath donne And my life dooth kéepe mée heere against my will But if our life be caus'de with moisture and heate I care neither for the death the life nor skyes For I 'll sigh him warmth and weat him with my eies And thus I shall be thought a second Promët And as for life let it doo me all despite For if it leaue me I shall goe to my childe And it in the heuens there is all my delyght And if I liue my vertue is immortall So that the heuens death and life when they doo all Their force by sorrowfull vertue th' are beguild An other I Dall for Adon neu'r shed so many teares Nor Thet ' for Pelid nor Phoebus for Hyacinthus Nor for Atis the mother of Prophetesses As for the death of Bulbecke the Gods haue cares At the brute of it the Aphroditan Quéene Caused more siluer to distyll fro her eyes Then when the droppes of her chéekes raysed Daisyes And to die with him mortall she would haue béene The Charits for it breake their Peruqs of golde The Muses and the Nymphes of Caues I beholde All the Gods vnder Olympus are constraint On Laches Clothon and Atropos to plaine And yet beautie for it dooth make no complaint For it liu'd with him and died with him againe ¶ Others of the fowre last lynes of other that she made also 11 My Sonne is gone and with it death end my sorrow 12 But death makes mee aunswere Madame cease these mones 13 My force is but on bodies of blood and bones 14 And that of yours is no more now but a shadow An other 11 Amphiôns wife was turned to a rocke O 12 How well I had béene had I had such aduenture 13 For then I might againe haue béene the Sepulcure 14 Of him that I bare in mée so long ago FINIS Epitaph made by the Queenes Maiestie at the death of the Princesse of Espinoye WHen the warrier Phoebus goth to make his round With a painefull course to too ther Hemisphêre A darke shadowe a great horror and a feare In I knoe not what clowdes inueron the ground And euen so for Pinoy that fayre vertues Lady Although Iupiter haue in this Orizôn Made a starre of her by the Ariadnan crowne Morns dolour and gréefe accompany our body O Atropos thou hast doone a worke per-uerst And as a byrde that hath lost both young and nest About the place where it was makes many a tourne Euen so dooth Cupid that infaunt God of amore Flie about the tombe where she lyes all in dolore Wéeping for her eies wherein he made soiourne FINIS ❧ Verses taken out of his Stanses Hymnes and Elegias all dedicated or sent to his Mistresse Diana Elegia IN which you ask't my name confesse your selfe if 't be not so And whether I before had euer béene in loue or no. My name

teares of my eyes that fall héere like riuers But in some thinges fabelons you must be content To see what it is of vs Louers the flame And reade you must vnder a Goddesses name Of your beates the delycate ornament And where as these which are to apayse your cruelties Shall not proscribe well your excellent rareties Excuse mee Nymphe as you would haue in some ●s●te Of heauen your fayre semblance for I doo not meane To sing you now but Dian when you haue bene More gratious vnto mée I wyll sing you better Sonnet 2. THe Gréeke Poet to whome Bathill was the guide Made her immortall by that which he did sing And were it so I knowe not but of Corîne We faine the patrone of the Latine Ouide And since them Petrarque a wise Florentîne Hath turnde his Mistres into a tree of Baye And he that soong the eldest daughter of Troye In Fraunce hath made of her an astre Diuine And lyke these knowne men can your Soothern write too And as long as Englishe lasts immortall you I the penne of Soothern will my sayre Diana Make thée immortall if thou wilt giue him fauour For then hée 'll sing Petrark Tîen Ouide Ronsar And make thee Cassander Corine Bathyll Laura Sonnet 3. THat death that despises at all kinde of beautie And would make all loue goe into Charons passage Would haue hit the eyes wherein I liue in seruage The eyes both to fayre and too full of crueltie But Cupid that styll in those eyes was indompted The infant knew well where after this death sought And began to crie death if thou ende thy thought We shall neither of vs be againe redoubted But death if thout let me liue in these eyes styll Thou shalt sée O then how nobelly I wyll Hoyse thy honour for I haue not halfe thy might And yet in these eyes I conquer all the world Death hearing this let him line styll in the syght Fro whence he shewteth such sharpe arrowes of gold Sonnet 4. WHen nature made my Diana that before All other Nymphes showld force the hearts rebell●nt She gaue her the masse of beauties excellent That she kéepe since long in her coffers in store And at her framing Paphae came fro the skies with the swéetnes and graces of Erycêene And swore that it should make her so fayre 〈◊〉 Quéene Of beautie that the Gods should dwell in her eyes But she hardlie was come to vs. fro aboue Though but my soule was inflamed with her loue And I serue her in spite of the troupe Celêst For tell mee why did not they lykewise ordaine That in reward of my loue she shewd againe Estéeme me onely and onely loue me best Sonnet 5. OF stars and of forrests Dian. is the honor And to the seas to the Goddesse is the guide And she hath Luna Charon and Eumenîde To make brightnes to giue death and to cause horror And my warrier my light shines in thy fayre eyes My dread is of thée the to great excellence Thy wordes kyll mee and thus thou hast the puissaunce Of her that rules the slodes and lyghines the skies And as syluer Pheb is the after most clare So is thy beauty the beauty the most rare Wherefore I call thée Dian for thy beantee For thy wisedome and for thy puissannce Celest And yet thou must be but a Goddesse terest And onely because of thy great crueltée Sonnet 6. OF Pyladeus and of Oresteus we haue made many disputes in the temple of death And in the Church of Troy we pro●ue Choreb's faith Who made for Cassander his h●rn●s his graue And there is one on the mountaine Cancasein With an Eagle on his heart Philosiphâll And there is a stone of a mad Cisyphâll Least alwayes behind him and caried in vaine These temples and this rocke is in my obiect The church is my soule the slint is my subiect My verses are the labours of Sisyphêus And for willing shew your fayre beauties its vaine Of Promet for not canning I haue the paine Th'Eagle's cruell and Nymphe you are rigrous Sonnet 7. I Am not my cruell warrier the Thebain That my infancie should be strangled with Serpents Nor neither did my nurse giue thée any torments nor I suckt neither Vropae nor Elthâin I came not my warrier of the blood Lidain Nor neyther am I of the race of Ixiôn Nor Ioue neither bare my mother affection Nor I am no infant Egier nor Danain Nor I am neither the nephew of Atlas That made the earth dronke with the blood of Arguss But yet I know wherefore I haue all my wounds I am none of these which I haue sayd Diân But I am that verie miserable man Who for regarding thée was eaten of Houndes Elegia 1. To the Echon O Dolefull voice that doost aunswer The wéepings of my care And that héere in these mozie groues Hast pittie on my dolanc● And th●● of whome she emptie mouth At least dooth make a semblaunce To séele my wounds that procéede of Two eyes to gréene and fayre O speake since thou canst not liue except I shall giue the brethe And since my gréeuous voice is onelie the nurce of thy steme I crying Dian why makest thou Dye Iohn aunswer agen Wouldst thou I lou'de no more Or doost thou Prophesie my death O noble Nymph tell mée or doost Thou now inflame againe With the antiqueus amor that Thou louedst so in vaine Or is it that remembring my Loue I should pittie thine For the like dollor that thou hadst Euen the like doo I suffer And the like amore that thou hadst The like to mee dooth offer Saue that thy loue was not so fayre Nor so cruelly as mine Elegia 2. To the Gods WHen the eye of the world dooth washe his golden shining heaire In the large Occean seas and that They haue couerd the lyght Amurmuring repose and a Restfull and sléepy night Is spreded both ouer the earth The waters and the ayre But I chaunge nature then For than Dooth my brightest Aurôr In a swéete dreame present her selfe O dreame no dreame but well The Ambrozie the Nectar and The Manna Eternell And to be bréefe a vision that I lyke a God adore Wherefore farewell day of nights and Welcome night waking daye And farewell waking of my sléepe Welcome sléepe lyuing ioye But what say I my wealth is false And my euill verita-ble And I plaine of them both for I Haue in neither delight Except ye Gods will short these dayes And eternishe this night An● that God that will doo it shall be a God charita-ble Elegia 3. To his Diana IF the secretnesse of my thoughtes Were opened to you Or if else my dolorous heart Had of speaking the vsage Or warrier if my constancie Were painted in my visage Or that if ye knewe my torment How it is great and true Or or if any golden wordes In well composed verse Could liuelelie shewe the picture Of an amourous rage Then should I without doubt

amolishe a Tigers courage And moue to pittie warrier if it were the vniuerce But since wordes neither can prescribe My amore nor my paine Tyme shall it selfe witnesse how much Both are in me certaine And that of my passioned soule The Diuine great loyalties Doo the sacrednesse of all others I of the Gods passe And more then the syluer maiesties of your Christall face Vnderneath tother Phebes doo Excell all other Beutaes Sonnet 8. THough I wish to haue your fauour which is such That it is but for Gods thinke you my Audâce Like his that in your stéede dyd a clowde imbrace Or his that was a harte by seéing so much Or would you else because of my hautaine thought That I might augment the Sepulchres of Thrace Or that I were as the giant Briarâs Or paide lyke the wagoner so euelie taught No lybertie Rome thy wrath the seas Diân Grée●e Pirats thy merie Must saue Ariôn Or if thou wylt none of these aforesayde thinges Because thou sayst that my mindes are set so high If thou thinkst I beginne lyke Icâr to ●lie Since th' eyes are my sonne let thy loue be my winges Sonnets 9. IT is after our deathes a thing mani-fest we bothe goe to hell and suffer hellishe paines you for your rigour I for my thoughts haultaines That attempt to loue a Goddesse so Celest But as for mee I shall be lyttle afflicted T is you my warrier that must haue the torment For I that but in séeing you am content you with mée I 'll blesse the place so much detested And my soule that is raued with your fayre eyes In the midst of hell wyll establishe a skeyes Making my bright day in the eternall night And when all the damned else are in annoy I 'll smyle in that glorie séeing you my ioy And being once there goe not out of our sight Sonnet 10. THe heauens willing shew fauour among our paines And to make both runne of my wéeping the streame And also eternall your rigor extreame turnd your heart to rocke and my eyes to fountaynes And Cupid dooth bache him in my syluer ryuers And being come out of the flodes of my yll He flies to your rocke where as vpon a hyll The lyttle wanton dooth prime and rowse his feathers But when thy winter comes and that thou art olde Felling thy rocke-hart vnder his tallons colde Hée 'll byd thee adiew with an eternall farewell And then thou hast fayre to say Loue is a rage Olde folke say so cause Cupid dooth abhorre age But were they lou'de then I doubt th'ed not be cruell Elegia 4. To the prisoners CVpid hath swelde my stomacke with On such a sacred poyson And I am in Quéene Venus fetters so well entertained That lyke a captiue languishing And with dolour tormented I thinke my selfe well happy to Be in a Womans prison Now As for you wretches that nothing but yrons can punishe If you lyst you may haue a hope to be at lyber-tie But as for mée I tell you I 'll die in captiui-tie Consuming héere in the quicke-siluer-fayre-eyes of my Goddesse And well I am contented indéede with her extréeme rigore Swearing that I neuer fell in My soule so great a dolore As when I thinke for her likewise Some other should haue passion And with all this too yet I haue Neither lost all my iudgement For we saye that man is happy onelie that is well content And I tell you you wretches it is all my contentation Elegia 5. To his thoughts MY thoughts to full of thought to thoughtfull thoughts giue now Repose Both to my dolefull soule and to my hope that is in vaine For well though my teares drop fro my eyes like a swift fountaine Murmuring my Alas she hearkeneth not to my propose My thoughts too full of thought and too Farre engrau'n in my heart My thoughts too full of thought that giue mée ouer to my dolore My thoughts too thoughtfull if you propose yet any more langore My thought full thoughts O Gods doo aduaunce therewithall my mort And Opinastres thoughts the causers of my extréeme paines And thoughts that boyle this sulfer humor in my drooping vaines Speake thoughtfull thoughts why féede you me With this Abist esperaunce When possessing the ioye of which I haue had such desyres And for Idolling the fayre eyes In which are my plasyres In the end thoughtes for reward thought Dooth bréede mée a repentaunce Elegia 6. To his Diana MY hope dooth fell mée that after This great rigour of you I shall with sacred guerdons Be recom-pensed for wrong Shewing mée that I merite it Being patience so long But this imagind hope my cruell warrier is it true My hope dooth tell mée too Diana That your Diuine beau-tie Cannot be accompanied with Such crueltie as thine But what is' t my angrie warrier That yéeldes this plague of mine Fortune or the origene of The cause of cru-eltie My hope dooth tell mée too my warrier that my dolefull langore Will in a passient ende amolishe your extréeme great rigore The which all if it can when your Mother 's gone we shall trie But if it cannot doo it then But would yet féede mée styll With presses of time I 'll giue ou'r And eu'r after I will Estéeme our Fortune too much lowe For a hope set so high Sonnet 11. HE that was the first that put these lyttle winges On the backe of a more that high God immortell He might better haue had employed his pensell To paint hopping butter-flyes or Genny wrens But if in place of them the doting foole had Painted his fierce howe and his rigorous draftes And shewde what kinde of thinges are his golden shaftes Then had he béene apt to haue painted a God And you that paint next you must vse other colore wherewith you may better shew his diuine rigore And for his bowe giue him a great harquebous Or beléeue you not goe and looke on Diân And hauing seéne her fayre eyes I estée me than you 'll giue him some thing more then it rigorous Sonnet 12. AEnêas Orphêus Cephall and Demophôn Of Pocris of Eurydice Phyllis and Creuse Haue made complaintes as they haue béene amorous Saying theyr mistresses did doo them all wrong Though they themselues to theyr loues did all amisse For one gaue Phyllis a poore mournefull se-quell And th' other left Procris in the vall's of hell And with t'others fault di-ed Euridice Aenêas the last was thought to haue least fault Though the presumpsion is yet great for all that But Dian you knoe Dian your amourous Hath not learned lyke any of them Protê Though you are Demoph Cephall Orpheus Aenê And he be Eurid Phyllis Procris and Creuse Sonnets 13. HE that wyll be subiect to Cupidos call Is chaungd euerie day I doo not knoe how And of this I my selfe haue made prooues enowe As Metamorphosd but wot not wherewithall Fyrst I was turned to a wandering Harte And sawe my stomacke pierst with a