Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A08974
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The nightingale vvarbling forth her owne disaster; or The rape of Philomela. Newly written in English verse, by Martin Parker
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M. P. (Martin Parker), d. 1656?; Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D. Metamorphoses. Book 6.
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1632
(1632)
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STC 19260; ESTC S110227
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11,524
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44
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all the Winter time doe passe Vnseene of any till Hyperious rayes Increase in hot influence and the dayes Are drawne in length by Natures annuall course The Swallow is a signe of Summers force 59 Vpon her breast her marke of guilt she beares Her back head wings and traine doe mourne in fable No pleasant note she sings as any heares But sounds forth accents fad and untunable Her flesh unfit to furnish any table And if in any's hand she chance to dye 'T is counted ominous I know not why 60 In signe of her unnaturall cookery Within a smokie Chimney still she builds While I with other Birds abrod doe flye In pleasant woods forrests and fragrant fields My tune a comfort unto mankind yeelds When April comes then Country milkmaids long And strive to heare the Nightingales sweet song 61 Yet still alone I love to sit and sing Delighted best in melancholy shade My Harmony doth make the woods to ring And by some learned Clerkes it hath been said That if a snake whereof I am afraid Should me devoure a Scorpions forme shee 'l take Which to prevent I keepe my selfe awake 62 Tereus was made a Lapwing he doth cry For his sonne Jtis as aloft he flyes Which words being reverst doe signifie 'T is I who by one horrid enterprise Did cause such floods of mischiefe to arise My wife her sister and my owne deare child I have quite overthrone oh monster vild 63 Vpon his head a tuft of feathers grow A signe of Regall state which he did wrong And if you marke his nature it doth shew His sordid deeds for he delights in dung He hath a bill exceeding sharp and long A figure of that knife it seemes to be Wherewith he did cut out the tongue of me 64 Thus all of us were rest of humane shape A just reward for our inhumane deeds All this was first occasion'd by the rape Of Philomel Rape further mischiefe breeds The nature of these birds who-ever reads Shall finde so correspondent to my words That no vaine syllable my song affords 65 When old Pandion heard this tragicke newer You will not marvell if I say he wept All transitory joyes he did refuse And spent those houres wherein he should have slept In sobs and grones which him awake still kept Ah miserable man methinks I see The character of Priam now in thee 66 Alas saith he you gods why are you so Vnkind to let me live against my will Why am I kept more misery to know More said I no that cannot be yes still To beare the burden of ones former ill Addes every houre more horror to the heart Nothing but death can case my carefull smart 67 I that within few yeeres was so inrich'd As no Prince could be more with daughters twaine Which at an instant both away are twitch'd With Son in law and grandchild none remaine Why then doth time procrastinate my paine Ah Philomel thou and the little boy Above the rest procure my sad annoy 68 VVretch that I was why did I suffer thee To goe with that capritious ravisher Had I at home detain'd thee still with mee Thou mightest have bin now safe could I preferre The sly perswasions of a flatterer Before my care paternall over thee The world may say the greatest fault 's in me 69 No father I le excuse thee for no harme Thou meant'st to mee nor would'st have let me goe But I as well as Tereus did thee charme VVith oyly words lov'd my sister so And that fond love was cause of this my woe VVho would have thoght her husband could have bin So impious to attempt that horrid sinne 70 The aged Prince having with languishment A little while inforcedly drawne breath His gray haires were to th' earth with sorrowes sent Never went man more willing to his death His living vertues wonne a Cypresse wreath And his true loving subjects with salt teares VVatred his Sepulcher for many yeares 71 The reason why the Poet sayes wee three I and my sister with her husband were Transformed into birds was cause that we Were all unworthy humane shapes to beare As by our deedes prodigious doth appeare The morall of the story is the chiefe As for the changing formes 't is past beliefe 72 Yet there 's no doubt but I poore Philomel Have nothing sung but what you may believe Birds seldome use any untruthes to tell If you 'l not take my warrant I shall grieve Whether you doe or no let me perceive That you all shun the vices mention'd in 't Then I le rejoyce because my song's in print FINIS