Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	methinks_v	see_v	throng_n	35	3	16.5739	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A56853	Fons lachrymarum, or, A fountain of tears from whence doth flow Englands complaint, Jeremiah's lamentations paraphras'd, with divine meditations, and an elegy upon that son of valor Sir Charles Lucas / written by John Quarles.	Quarles, John, 1624-1665.; Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650.	1649 (1649)	Wing Q128; ESTC R235077	54,591	166

the splendor of this glorious Sun See how he wrastles with the gloomy clouds Of our transgressions See how he unshrouds Himself On see what pains he undergoes To prove himself our friend that were his foes Methinks I hear a throng of people cry Let Barabbas be freed let 's crucifie This Jewish King let 's lead him to his death 'T is pity he should draw a minutes breath Methinks I see how his weak hands are bound With twisted cords Methinks I see him crown'd with sharpned thorns Methinks I see them how They worship him with a dissembled bow Methinks I see the gazing people run To see the glorious setting of this Sun Methinks I see his gentle feet divide Their measur'd paces to be crucify'd Methinks I see how his delightful face Seems to receive an honor by disgrace Methinks I see how his Heav'n-fixed eyes Do overlook his raging enemies Methinks I see his spear-inviting brest Willingly ready to receive the rest Of their intended malice How his palms Like one that gives and not receives an alms Are spread abroad which truly verifies With what a chearful willingness he dyes Methinks I see how his connexed feet Salute the Cross as if they joy'd to meet With so so fast a friend Methinks I see With what a Heav'n-infus'd reluctancie He entertains their blows as if he found A lively comfort in each deadly wound Methinks I see his bubbling veins how they Swell up a little and then shrink away And hide themselves as if they had exprest For the departure of so warm a guest A secret grief till conquering death exil'd Life from the body of that Lamb that Child That Son of God in whom true joys reside Who lives by dying and by living dy'd Quis miserior quàm qui suam nescit miseriam DO I not dayly see that nothing can Be so unstable as the state of man Do I not see how fortune can correct Misfortune and as suddenly neglect Poor helpless man Sometimes his thoughts are crown'd With golden joys and sometimes kiss the ground Somtimes he 's fil'd with laughter somtims weeps Sometimes he walks in state and somtimes creeps A morning joy proves sometimes grief at night For fortunes dyal goes not always right 'T is vain 't is vain and ah that I could weep My self into a deluge and so steep My cheeks in tears Oh that I could imbark My naked Soul and swim like Noah's Ark In that grand Ocean which my flowing eyes Have made and overlook my miseries Distemp'red thoughts why do you thus torment My yeelding Soul why does my Soul relent Why am I thus afflicted why doth sorrow Take an advantage of my Soul and borrow Quotidian plagues and study how to make My heart its Theater How shall I shake These coupling fetters from my captiv'd heart How shall I bid adue to grief and part Where shall I run and labor to unsnare My breasts inhabitant Oh how or where Shall I retire my self In what sad place Shall I deplore my miserable case Could I but find a place where I might dwell And only see the Sun I 'd bid farewel To all false pleasures For now my Soul still hovers to and fro From places to place sometimes it flies too low Sometimes with more aspiring wings it flies And envies at impossibilities Then back again and with a seeming mirth Surveys the center of this flattering Earth And thus my Soul being left in this sad being Agrees in nothing else but disagreeing My ways are pav'd with thorns I take my diet From sorrows table furnish'd with disquiet I am the principle of grief my eyes Like windows open to all miseries My head 's a fountain and from thence doth flow The headlong rivers of unbridled woe My sighs like sudden storms disturb my rest As if I had a Boreas in my brest Needs must I be molested in my dreams My heart 's the receptacle of all streams Then blame me not if sorrow makes me cry Sum all misfortune up and that am I But stay my thoughts post not away too fast Extreams are dangerous and cannot last A sudden thought hath made me to confess I may be happy in unhappiness And what 's a thought 't is but a sudden puff Yet many may confound when one's enough Come let 's repose and make a little stay Our Sun 's sufficient to adorn a day Why should I wander in the darksom shades Of my own errors whilest a grief invades My naked senses 'T is in vain to strive Against the power of God who can contrive What pleases him Why shall I then repine At what he sends Can wretched I confine His will to mine Oh no He suffers well Whose suffrings tell him there 's no other Hell But in this world Who would not then endure Terrestrial torment that he may procure Celestial pleasures Sorrow brings no loss To him whose patience can sustain a cross Hereafter I will labor to prevent A little Sorrow by a great Content Surgit post nubila Phoebus WHen gloomy clouds surround the lofty skie It is an argument a storm is nigh But when the Sun 's eclipsed from our sight We must not judg an everlasting night Will then ensue 'T is danger to distrust A God that is so merciful so just The greatest sin that Satan can declare Against a guilty Soul is sad despair What though the clouds of Earth shall interpose Betwixt a Soul and Heaven the wind blows Not always in one place one happy hour May breed a calm and qualifie a showre Some greedy Lawyers when their Clyents stoek Is almost spent rewards him with a mock The Counsellor of Heav'n gives more content To a poor sinner when his breath is spent Accepts the will although his tongue be mute He seldom keeps him seven years in a suite He 's free in mercy and he takes delight To end a suite when sorrow makes it right God is not like to them that take a pride In others griefs when tears begin to slide His mercy falls he cannot brook delay But meets a sinners language half the way His ears are always open to let in A sinners prayers when he lets out his sin What thogh I have transgrest what tho my crime Appear like mountains mountains oftentimes Sink lower nay and God can pardon all As well as one for be they great or small They all are sins shrubs grow as well as trees Gods mercy will admit of no degrees He that distrusts his God shall always find A clouded conscience and a stormy mind Seven days had run before God had attyr'd The World with order yet he was not tyr'd And shall we then expect to climb so high As Heav'n in half an hour or else deny So blest a labour No perhaps to day We keep the road to morrow lose the way Contenta vita est summa foelicitas WHat is this world A looking-glass wherein We see the body nay the face of Sin What 's Wealth what 's Honor

Star-chamber where our God controuls We have rebelliously transgrest and thou Thou hast not pard'ned with a cheerful brow Thine anger hath o'reshadowed us thou hast Slain without pity we thy anger taste Th' ast vail'd thy self with clouds which will not let Our prayers pass thorough to discharge our debt And as th' off-scouring thou O Lord hast made us Amongst those factious people that betray'd us Our greedy enemies have op'ned wide Their mouths against us and our pains deride Fear like a snare incloses us about And desolation will not keep without Mine eyes run down like hasty floods of water For the destruction of my peoples Daughter Mine eyes are full and tears do stream upon My cheeks without an intermission Till Heav'n look'd down on my enriver'd face And view'd my weeping from his holy place Mine eyes affect my pining heart with pity Because of all the Daughters of my City And causless like a frighted bird that flies I still am chased by my enemies They have destroy'd me in the dungeon nay They cast a stone upon me where I lay Th' imperious waves mounted above my head And then I cry'd Alas alas I 'm dead I call'd upon thy Name O Lord my voyce Out of the dungeon made a dreadful noise Th' ast heard my cries Oh let thy ears not lie Hid from the breathing of my doleful cry And in that day when I on thee did call Thou cam'st and bid me never fear at all And when my Soul O Lord was fil'd with strife Thou didst both plead my cause and save my life And thou hast plainly seen my wrong'd estate Judg thou my cause be thou my Advocate For thou hast seen their vengeance thou dost see Their deep imaginations against me Thou their reproach hast heard and apprehended What against me their busie thoughts intended Thou know'st the very lips of them that rose Against me and the malice of my foes Behold their sitting and their rising I Am all their musick and their melody Render to them a recompence O God And let them feel thy handy-work thy rod O give them grief of heart O let them burst With dregs of sorrow let them be accurst And let thy angry persecuting hand Destroy confound and sweep them from the Land Meditatio in Capitulum COme come my Soul do not obnubilate Thy self with smoky pleasures nor create More vain delights to please thy toyish minde Be serious now let pleasures be confin'd Th' Almighty's angry and his angry Breath Expresses nothing but resolved Death His wrath is kindled and his furious hand Threatens a ruine to a sinful Land His bow is bent behold he stands prepar'd T is he 't is he that will not be out-dar'd And should his roving messenger impart A secret sorrow to a private heart What then Can all the balsams may be found ●ecure so great so terrible a wound No no O then let thy discerning eye ●e truly watchful for discovery ●ft-times prevents a mischief he 's a stranger ●o Heav'ns high Court that thinks t' outbrave a danger ●ehold my soul thou art inviron'd round ●ith troops of adversaries hark they sound Their vilifying trumpets hark they mock And make thy sorrows but their laughing stock Dost thou not hear them how they shout and cry As though they 'd cleave th' unseparable sky O be not deaf rouze up thy self advance Thy backward thoughts sleep not in ignorance Provoke not Heav'n too much O do not still Vrge more and more his most unwilling will Observe but how unpleasantly his arm Draws up his bow as one that 's loath to harm Methinks I hear him say O can ye tell Why will ye dye ye house of Israel Methinks I hear his never-ending breath Breathe a disdain against a sinners death Methinks I hear his grieved spirit say Ye that are weary come O come away And lay your burthens on my back and I Will bear them all I 'l bear them willingly Why will ye dye why will ye shut your eyes And thus run head-long after vanities Open your Adder ears come and rejoyce With me and mine let my harmonious voyce Invite you Ah what pleasures can accrue From shadows to such substances as you Cast off the works of darkness let true light Expel those mists O come when I invite What do ye mean O tell me tell me why Ye love to tumble in impurity Ah now my Soul let admiration prove That Heav'n's compos'd of nothing but of Love O Love beyond expression My deserts Rather then Mercy claim a thousand darts Call home thy wandring thoughts and let them all Like servants be obedient to thy Call Examine them the very best will show Thy best deserts are but an overthrow Review thy actions see if they can yeeld One grain of comfort see if they can shield Thy threatned state The more men strive to smother Their sins the more one sin begets another Then fly dull soul to Heav'ns high Court there Melt melt into an everlasting tear Attone thy God let not thy tongue deny The truth to him when he shall ask thee why Why hast thou done this wickedness Confess 'T is thou hast sinn'd 't is he that must depress That head-increasing Hydra Then shalt thou ●ehold with what a voluntary brow He 'l entertain thee and those joys impart To thee which wait upon a contrite heart He will have pity though he sends a grief In multitudes of mercy lies relief The God of Love did never take delight ●o mantle sinners with the clouds of night ●e's an indulgent Father and his care ● infinite as all his mercies are Compose thy numerous thoughts my Soul and run O tell that Father thou wilt be his Son CHAP. IV. Contents 1 Sion bewaileth her pitiful estate 13 She confesseth her sins 21 Edom is threatned 22 Sion is comforted HOw is the gold grown dim how is the fine The purest changed that was wont to shine The stones that pav'd the Sanct'ary are thrown Into the streets for beasts to trample on The sons of Sion which I could compare To finest gold behold see now they are Esteem'd as earthen pitchers which the hands Of the industrious Potter still commands The ill-shap'd monsters which the Ocean owns As proper guests nourish their little ones But ah my Daughters are grown pitiless Like Ostriches within the wilderness The wordless tongues of thirsty children cleave To their unliquid mouths they never leave Their integrating cries Poor hearts in vain They cry for food but can no food obtain And they that fed upon delicious sweets Are desolate in the unquiet streets They that were brought up in a scarlet dress Embrace a dunghil as their happiness For ah my peoples Daughter suffers more For her great sins then Sodom did before Her beautified Nazarites could show A purer white then milk whiter then snow Their bodies then the rubies were more red With shining Saphire were they polished But now their changed visages excel The coal in

to give we know not how to ask Methinks I hear some multiloquious fool Make this reply What must I go to school And learn to beg I 'm skilful to require If Heav'n would suit his gifts to my desire Let fools delight in folly let them think That men are blind because they see them wink Others methinks reply Have we not cry'd To Heav'n for blessings and have been deny'd Have not our early voyces been extended To Heav'n and yet our labors vili-pended Is this th' effect of pray'r are these the gains That we were largely promis'd for our pains Go silly Souls and do not thus contest With him that knows what 's worst and what is best Ye know not what ye ask your fond desires If granted to may breed such flaming fires Within your greedy brests and so torment Your hearts with millions of sad discontent Then may ye know that true discretion lies As well in asking as in giving wise And solid hearts will labor first to know What 's fit for their desires and then they 'l sow Their pray'rs in such a soil as shall encrease Their stock of Grace and everlasting Peace Pulsanti aperietur KNock and it shall be open'd here 's an art Requires the labors of a studious heart It is an easi action some suppose Because it commonly consists of blows Here 's a mysterious knock 't is not the hand O●●l●sh and blood can knock or tongue command The gates to move 't is not Saint Peter's keys Can turn the lock except the Landlord please Heaven 's a well-ordered family whose gate Opens not soon to them that knock too late But those whose early labors shall implore To have admittance at that sacred door Must well instruct their hearts and have a care First learning how to knock and after where How happy 's he that really can say Go take thy rest my Soul th' ast knock'd to day H●'s happy that can speak such words as these Open the door my Soul thou hast the keys How happy 's he that by a faithful knock Can make the yeelding Gates of Heav'n unlock Pray'rs are the keys of Heav'n the melting door Is mercy that lets in and out the store Faith is the golden key which gives us all A speedy entrance to the spacious Hall But we must open or else not come there The gate of Mercy with the key of Pray'r Go then my Soul into some private place Unlock thy heart and when unlock'd abase Thy self before the Throne of Heav'n and fly Unto the Temple of Divinity Go knock thy heart out if that will not do Say Heaven 's grown deaf or else thy heart 's not true Cast off the thred-bare garments of thy sin Thy pray'rs will melt the gates and let thee in The Governor of Heav'n will not refuse To give an audience to such welcome news Nor can he be ungrateful or neglect To crown thy labors with a true respect Then tune thy heart and teach it to express Full Diapasons of true thankfulness And grant dear God when my poor Soul shall knock That my unworthy key may fit thy lock AN ELEGIE Upon that Son of Valor Sir CHARLS LVCAS Who was shot to Death by the Command of the Counsel of War before COLCHESTER To all those that love the memory of Sir Charls Lucas Reader WHen my serious thoughts reflected upon the Death of so worthy a person I could not but privately deplore so publique a loss and being importuned by his virtues and my own sorrow I gave my pen the priviledg assisting it with the uttermost of my power to compose this Elegious Poem upon his Death which I cannot expect will be consonant to all humors but only to them that love Loyalty Reader I shall desire thee to let the strength of thy goodness pardon the weakness of him that is His Kings his Countries and Thine JOHN QUARLES AN ELEGY I Cannot hold the Laws of Nature break The Laws of Reason and my Cisterns leak Pardon my tears oh Heav'n and let thy pow'r Subdue my grief and mitigate this showre Restore me to my self and let my Quill Weep for me let it weep until it fill Whole volumes with sad tears tears that may flow From age to age that all the world may know It weeps for him whose never-dying name Gives golden feathers to the wings of fame But is it requisite that I alone Should storm so great a work as this and none Invok'd t' assist me Sorrow hates delay Oh hear my hasty call and come away Ye grief-supporting Muses here is that Will sublimate your senses ask not what It is for fear lest melancholly I Ravish'd with what I speak should faint and dye Times full-mouth'd Herauld will exactly tell How Death hath rambled from his m●sty Cell And with presumptuous violence hath shot A Star whose fall will never be forgot Then rouze your down-cast spirits now or never Shake off your slumbers or repose for ever Lucas has conquer'd Death he 's gone to keep An everlasting Sabbath and to sleep In Abrahams bosom Ah methinks this breath Should re-invite you from the shades of Death To weep his obsequies but if there 's none Will be invok'd my Muse shall walk alone Into the Wilderness of grief and there Condole this loss till sorrow wants a tear Have I betray'd my self Am I o'retaken With folly Or has Reason quite forsaken The kingdom of my mind If he be blest How dare my tears thus interrupt his rest Oh Times Oh Manners Is the world grown mad Some I behold rejoycing others sad As grief can make them Sure we have forgot To sympathize or else why weep we not Or smile together Has Death got the power To make us weep and smile within an hour Smile they that please mine eyes cannot forbear For every smile of theirs to shed a tear Come real-hearted Mourners and incline Your ear to my sad story and confine Your selves to sorrow sorrow that shall need No definition if your hearts can bleed Now now they shall and may that barren eye That will not weep prove blind or always dry And they that can and will not now let fall Some tears have hard hearts or no hearts at all Lucas rare Soul oh that my tongue might dwell Upon thy name 't was thou that didst excell The world in Martial Valor He that can Forget thy name forgets to be a Man 'T is death to say th' art dead Thou canst not dye If thou art dead there 's no Eternity Thou liv'st in spite of Death yet I condole Thy murther'd body but I 'm sure thy Soul Lives above envy where it shall be blest In spite of those whose wisdoms thought it best To put a period to thy days and bring Joy to themselves and sorrow to their King Discreetly done and sure this Act must be Recorded in the Rouls of Infamie That after Ages when they do behold May blush what noble Deeds were done of old Say Tyrants say

Throne Thus we Fond men expand our own infirmitie And thus our spend-thrift eyes profusely flow In lavish tears for him whose Soul we know Is far more happy then we can express Why do we then lament his happiness Then go sad Genius and advise all such That grieve to grieve because they grievd so much For him who Heav'n hath lately made a stranger To grief who rests above the reach of danger There let him rest in a most glorious sleep And if weak Nature urgeth us to weep Let 's weep nay weep indeed until our eyes Blinded with weeping weep for new supplies Let 's weep for sin let troops of sighs attend Our hasty tydes to their long journeys end Oh let 's deplore our most unhappy state Betimes for fear lest time-devouring fate Blocks up the narrow passage of our breath And so surprize us with a sudden Death And ah how soon the shadow-flying days Of man consumes how soon the troubled blaze Of his frail life expires and ah how soon He finds a night before he thinks 't is noon And how the pleasures of this sordid Earth Shadow his senses with a glimmering mirth And what 's this world 't is but a glass wherein Nothing appears but Heav'n-confronting sin Alas its painted beauty represents Nothing but folly crown'd with discontents There 's nothing here that truly may be stil'd A happiness here 's nothing but 's defil'd Alas alas in what a sad condition Is dust-composed man what expedition He daily makes to gain those things which gain'd Gnaw him like vipers thus are mortals stain'd And blur'd with vanities and thus they spend Their winged hours as if they could not end Fond Earths-consuming trash hath so combin'd Their hearts to worldly pleasures that they mind Nothing but profit basely gain'd which shall Mount them up here but after let them fall But where 's that man whose Soul contrives to be Imparadis'd and crown'd with dignitie With Hallelujahs Angels which controul The Family of Heav'n who still inroul In their sublimer thoughts how great how just Their Maker is before whose throne all must Appear with spotless Souls and fly from hence With downy wings of Dove-like innocence But stay my quill have I thus soon forgot My bosom friend as if I lov'd him not No no though he be dead he cannot dye Death cannot drive him from my memory Where he shall rest till time shall recommend My friend-bereaved Soul unto my friend For whilest he liv'd my sympathizing heart Was truly his and truly bore a part In what he suffer'd Ah but now he 's fled And left me here to say my friend is dead Poor soul and why poor soul rash tongue call back That fond abortive word how can he lack That dayly feeds upon delicious dyet In Heav'ns great store house and knows no disquiet This was an Error that my hasty quill Too rashly stept into against my will I hope 't is venial Reason may afford A pardon for a grief-relapsed word When passion rules the fancy men become Vainly Pragmatick or extreamly dumb But why rash death why didst thou send thy dart To take possession of his willing heart And gave no longer warning was there none Could please thy pallate only him alone 'T was quickly ended and as soon begun Believe me death 't was but unfriendly done But why do I fond man expostulate With thee that art an all-consuming fate Th' ast done a happy deed I dare not blame Thy power because I know from whence it came Shall I because he was my friend repine At his departure was he Heav'ns or mine I yield him Heav'ns not mine but yet I might Claim him as finite Heav'n as infinite He was but lent me for a time that I And others by his life might learn to dye Whilest he enjoy'd the fulness of his breath His life was a preparative for death His whole delight and study was to pry Into the bosom of Divinity From whence he suck'd such wholesom streams that those Which heard him gave a plaudit to his close His dayly practice was how to fulfil And prosecute his great Redeemers will Heav'n was his Meditation and he gave A reverent respect unto his grave Faith Hope and Charity did sweetly rest Within the Counsel-chamber of his brest And in a word the graces did agree To make one happy Soul and this was he As for his moral duties they were such That should I strive I could not speak too much His civil carriage towards all men might claim A perfect right to a beloved name His actions were so just that they may tell He liv'd uprightly and he dy'd as well His love his sweet society might call Ten thousand tears t' attend his funeral And to conclude in him all men might find A real heart and a most noble mind But now he 's gone his winged Soul 's aspir'd To Heav'ns high Palace where he sits attir'd With glorious immortality and sings Melodious Anthems to the King of Kings There there his melting Soul ravish'd to see The Sun-bright throne of splendent Majestie Adores his wel-pleas'd maker who makes known He 's pleas'd to crown and keep him for his own Oh there he rests free from the rubs of Earth Hugging no shadow but a real mirth Oh there 's no grief no sorrow found to vex His peaceful Soul no trouble to perplex Or blast his new-bred joys there is no woe No care no pain no misery no foe That dare presume to interrupt him all Must stand aloof and not appear nor shall Incroaching bold-fac'd grief nor pale-fac'd spight Dare interpose t' eclipse one blaze of light Oh there methink I hear him sweetly sing Grave where 's thy power Oh Death where 's thy sting Methinks I hear his warbling tongue declare How good his works how great his wonders are Methinks I see a great united Band Of glitt'ring Angels how prepar'd they stand To welcom him Methinks I hear them say March on blest Soul thou need'st not doubt the way Oh glorious sight In what triumphing state They guard his Soul to Heav'ns refulgent gate Where when he comes disrob'd of all his sin The gates fly open and his Soul flies in Methinks my ravish'd ears are fill'd and blest With such harmonious raptures and possest With such varieties that even I Were sin absolved would resolve to dye Methinks I hear within Heav'ns Ecchoing Grove The quavering Angels chant as if they strove T' excel themselves Methinks that every breath Is a sweet Invitation unto death But oh what rare or what profound invention Beatifi'd with a strong apprehension Can sound the depth of those delights which he Shall swim and bathe in to Eternitie There rest dear Soul having thus conquer'd fate Thy pleasures never shall expire their date There there the Alpha of thy joys shall never Know an Omega but be blest for ever With Alpha and Omega who shall crown Thy throne-approaching Soul with true renown Whilest we confused mortals here below Gulp up the dregs of sorrow and bestow Curses in stead of prayers upon each other And dayly labour to confuse and smother Our serene happiness and turn those joys Which Heav'n allow'd us to neglected toys And thus our deviating Souls befool Themselves and practise in the common School Of Errors Thus erroneously we bend Our flexive minds to folly and commend Non-sence for wisdom Reason being dead Repose my Muse discretion calls to bed FINIS