Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A20871
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Flovvres of Sion. By VVilliam Drummond of Hawthorne-denne. To which is adioyned his cypresse groue
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Drummond, William, 1585-1649.
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1623
(1623)
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STC 7247; ESTC S105397
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40,164
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84
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more harmlesse found and milde His food was Locusts and what there doth spring With Hony that from virgine Hiâ—es distill'd Parcht Bodie hollow Eyes some vncouth thing Made him appeare long since from Earth exilde There burst he foorth All yee whose Hopes relye On GOD with mee amidst these Desarts 〈◊〉 Repent repent and from olde errours tuâ—ne Who listned to his voyce obey'd his cry Onely the Ecchoes which hee made relent Rung from their flintie Caues repent repent THese Eyes deare Lord once Brandons of Desire Fraile Scoutes betraying what they had to keepe Which their owne heart then others set on fire Their traitrous blacke before thee heere out weepe These Lockes of blushing deeds the gilt attire Waues curling wrackefull shelfes to shadow deepe Rings wedding Soules to Sinnes lethargicke sleepe To touch thy sacred Feet doe now aspire In Seas of care behold a sinking Barke By windes of sharpe Remorse vnto thee driuen O let me not expos'd be Ruines marke My faults confest LORD say they are forgiuen Thus sigh'd to TESVS the Bethanian faire His teare-wet Feet still drying with her Haire I Countries chang'd new pleasures out to finde But ah for pleasure new I sound new paine Enchanting Pleasure so did Reason blind That Fathers loue and words I scorn'd as vaine For Tables rich for bed for following traine Of carefull seruants to obserue my Minde These Heards I keepe my fellowes are assign'd Rocke is my Bed and Herbes my Life sustaine Now while I famine feele feare worser harmes Father and Lord I turne thy Loue yet great My faults will pardon pittie mine estate This where an aged Oake had spred its Armes Thought the lost Childe while as the Heardes he led Not farre off on the ackornes wilde them fed IF that the World doth in amaze remaine To heare in what a sad deploring mood The Pelican powres from her brest her Blood To bring to life her yonglings backe againe How should wee wonder of that soueraigne Good Who from that Serpents sting that had vs slaine To saue our lifes shed his Lifes purple flood And turn'd in endlesse Ioy our endlesse Paine Vngratefull Soule that charm'd with false Delight Hast long long wander'd in Sinnes flowrie Path And didst not thinke at all or thoughtst not right On this thy Pelicanes great Loue and Death Heere pause and let though Earth it scorne Heauen see Thee powre foorth teares to him powr'd Blood for thee IF vhen farre in the East yee doe behold Forth from his Christall Bed the Sunne to rise With rosie Robes and Crowne of flaming Gold If gazing on that Empresse of the Skies That takes so many formes and those faire Brands Which blaze in Heauens high Vault Nights watchfull eyes If seeing how the Seas tumultuous Bands Of bellowing Billowes haue their course confin'd How vnsustain'd the Earth still steadfast stands Poore mortall Wights yee e're found in your Minde A thought that some great King did sit aboue Who had such Lawes and Rites to them assign'd A King who fix'd the Poles made Spheares to moue All Wisedome Purenesse Excellencie Might All Goodnesse Greatnesse Iustice Beautie Loue With feare and wonder hither turne your Sight See see alas Him now not in that State Thought could fore-cast Him into Reasons light Now Eyes with teares now Hearts with griefe make great Bemoane this cruell Death and drearie case If euer Plaints iust Wâ—e could aggrauate From Sinne and Hell to saue vs humaine Race See this great King naill'd to an abiect Tree An obiect of reproach and sad disgrace O vnheard Pittie Loue in strange degree Hee his owne Life doth giue his Blood doth shed â—or Wormelings base such Worthinesse to see Poore Wights behold His Visage pale as Lead His Head bow'd to His Brest Lockes sadlie rent Like a cropt Rose that languishing doth fade Weake Nature weepe astonish'd World lament Lamâ—nt you Windes you Heauen that all containes And thou my Soule let nought thy Griefes relent Those Hands those sacred Hands which hold the râ—ines Of this great All and kept from mutuall warres The Elements beare rent for thee their Vaines Those Feete which once must trade on golden Starres For thee with Nailes would bee pierc'd through and â—orne For thee Heauens King from Heauen himselfe â—ebarres This great heart-quaking Dolour waile and mourne Yee that long since Him saw by might of Faith Yee now that are and yee yet to bee borne Not to behold his great Creators Death The Sunne from sinfull eyes hath vail'd his light And faintlieâ—journeyes vp Heaâ—ens saphyre Path And cutting from her Browes her Tresses bright The Moone doth keepe her Lords sad Obseqâ—ies Impearling with her Teares this Robe of Night All staggering and lazie lowre the Skies The Earth and elementall Stages quake The long since dead from bursted Graues arise And can things wanting sense yet sorrow take And beare a Part with him who all them wrought And Man though borne with cryes shall pittie lacke Thinke what had beene your state had hee not brought To these sharpe Pangs himselfe and priz'd so hie Your Soules that with his Life them life hee bought What woes doe you attend if still yee lye Plung'd in your wonted ordures wreâ—ched Brood Shall for your sake againe GOD euer die O leaue deluding shewes embrace true good Hee on you calles forgoe Sinnes shamefull trade With Prayers now seeke Heauen and not with Blood Let not the Lambes more from their Dames bee had Nor Alâ—â—rs blush for sinne liue euery thing That long time long'd for sacrifice is made All that is from you crau'd by this great King Is to beleeue a pure Heart Incense is What gift alas can wee him meaner bring Haste sinne-sicke Soules this season doe doe not misse Now while remorselesse Time doth grant you space And GOD invites you to your onlie Blisse Hee wâ—â— you calles will not denie you Grace But low-deepe burrie faults so yee repent His Armes loe stretched are you to embrace When Dayes are done and Lifes small sparke is spent So yee accept what freelie heere is giuen Like brood of Angels deathlesse all-content Yee shall for euer liue with him in Heauen COme forth come forth yee blest triumphing Bands Faire Citizens of that immortall Towne Come see that King which all this All commands Now ouercharg'd with Loue die for his owne Looke on those Nailes which pierce his Feete and Hands What a sharpe Diademe his Browes doth crowne Behold his pallid Face his Eyes which sowne And what a throng of Theeues him mocking stands Come forth yee empyrean Troupes come forth Preserue this sacred Blood that Earth adornes Gather those liquid Roses off his Thornes O! to bee loost they bee of too much worth For Streams 1 Iuice 2 Balm 3 they are which queÌ„ch 1 kils 2 charms 3 Of GOD 1 Death 2 Hell 3 the wrath 1 the life 2 the harmes3. SOule which to Hell wast thrall Hee Hee for thine offence Did suffer Death who could not die at all O soueraigne Excellence O
Glorie of thy Sisters sexe to winne From worke on thee as other Dayes from Sinne That Mankind shall forbeare in euerie place The Prince of Planets warmeth in his race And farre beyond his pathes in frozen Climes And may thou be so blest to outâ—date Times That when Heauens Quire shall balze in accents lowd The many Mercies of their soueraigne Good How hee on thee did Sinne Death Hell destroy It may bee aye the Burthen of their Ioy. BEneath a sable vaile and Shadowes deepe Of vnaccessible and dimming light In Silence ebane cloudes more blacke than Night The Worlds great Minde his secrets hidde doth keepe Through those thicke Mists when any mortall Wight Aspires with halting pace and Eyes that weepe To prye and in his Misteries to creepe With Thunders hee and Lightnings blastes their Sight O Sunne invisible that dost abide Within thy bright abysmes most faire most darke Where with thy proper Rayes thou dost thee hide O euer-shining neuer full seene marke To guide mee in Lifes Night thy light mee show The more I search of thee the lesse I know IF with such passing Beautie choise Delights The Architect of this great Round did frame This Pallace visible short listes of Fame And sillie Mansion but of dying Wights How many Wonders what amazing lights Must that triumphing Seat of Glorie clame That doth transcend all this great All 's vaste hights Of whose bright Sunne ours heere is but a beame O blest abode O happie dwelling place Where visiblie th' Invisible doth raigne Blest People which doe see true Beauties Face With whose farre Shadowes scarce he Earth doth daigne All Ioy is but Annoy all Concord Strife Match'd with your endlesse Blisse and happie life LOue which is heere a care That Wit and Will doth marre Vncertaine Truce and a most certaine Warre A shrill tempestuous Winde Which doth disturbe the Minde And like wilde Waues our designes all commoâ—e Among those Powres aboue Which see their Makers Face It a contentment is a quiet Peace A Pleasure voide of Griefe a constant rest Eternall Ioy which nothing can molest THat space where raging Waues doe now diuide From the great Continent our happie Isle Was sometime Land and now where Shippes doe glide Once with laborious Art the Plough did tyle Once those faire Bounds stretcht out so farre and wide Where Townes no Shires enwall'd endeare each mile Were all ignoble Sea and marish vile Where Proteus Flockes danc'd measures to the Tyde So Age transforming all still forward runnes No wonder though the Earth doth change her Face New Manners Pleasures new turne with new Sunnes Lockes now like Gold grow to an hoarie grace Nay Mindes rare shape doth change that lies despis'd Which was so deare of late and highlie pris'd THis World a Hunting is The Prey poore Man the Nimrod fierce is Death His speedie Grayâ—ounds are Lust Sicknesse Enuie Care Strife that neere falles amisse With all those ills which haunt vs while wee breath Now if by chance wee flie Of these the eager chase Old Age with stealing pace Castes vp his Nets and there wee panting die WHy Worldlings do ye trust fraile Honours dreames And leane to guilted Glories which decay Why doe yee toyle to registrate your Names On ycie Pillars which soone melt away True Honour is not heere that place it clames Where blacke-brow'd Night doth not exile the Day Nor no farre-shining lamp diues in the Sea But an eternall Sunne spreades lasting Beames There it attendeth you where spotlesse Bands Of Sprits stand gazing on their soueraigne Blisse Where yeeres not hold it in their canckring hands But who once noble euer noble is Looke home lest hee your weakned Wit make thrall Who Edens foolish Gardner earst made fall AS are those Apples pleasant to the Eye But full of smoake within which vse to grow Neere that strange Lake where God powr'd from the Skie Huge showres of flames worse flames to ouer-throw Such are their workes that with a glaring Show Of humble holinesse in Vertues dye Would coloure mischiefe while within they glow With coales of Sinne though none the Smoake descrie Ill is that Angell that earst fell from Heauen But not more ill than hee nor in worse case Who hides a traitrous Minde with smiling face And with a Doues white feathers maskes a Rauen Each Sinne some colour hath it to adorne Hypocrisie All-mightie God doth scorne NEw doth the Sunne appeare The Mountaines Snowes decay Crown'd with fraile flowres forth comes the babye yeare My Soule Time postes away And thou yet in that frost Which Flowre and fruite hath lost As if all heere immortall were dost stay For shame thy Powres awake Looke to that Heauen which neuer Night makes blacke And there at that immortall Sunnes bright Rayes Decke thee with Flowres which feare not rage of Dayes THrice happie hee who by some shadie Groue Farre from the clamorous World doth liue his owne Though solitarie who is not alone But doth conuerse with that Eternall Loue O how more sweet is Birdes harmonious Moane Or the hoarse Sobbings of the widow'd Doue Than those smooth whisperings neere a Princes Throne Which Good make doubtfull do the euill approue O how more sweet is Zephyres wholesome Breath And Sighes embalm'd which new-borne Flowres vnfold Than that applause vaine Honour doth bequeath How sweet are Streames to Poison drunke in Gold The World is full of Horrours Troubles Slights Woods harmlesse Shades haue only true Delights SWeet Bird that sing'st away the earlie Houres Of Winters past or comming voide of Care Well pleased with Delights which present are Faire Seasones budding Sprayes sweet-smelling Flowres To Rockes to Springs to Rills from leauie Bowres Thou thy Creators Goodnesse dost declare And what deare Gifts on thee he did not spare A Staine to humane sense in Sinne that lowres What Soule can be so sicke which by thy Songs Attir'd in sweeâ—nesse sweetlie is not driuen Quite to forget Earthes turmoiles spights and wrongs And lift a reuerend Eye and Thought to Heauen Sweet Artlesse Songstarre thou my Minde dost raise To Ayres of Spheares yes and to Angels Layes AS when it hapneth that some louelie Towne Unto a barbarous Besieger falles Who there by Sword and Flame himselfe enstalles And shamelesse it in Teares and Blood doth drowne Her Beautie spoil'd her Citizens made Thralles His spight yet can not so her all throw downe But that some Statue Arch Phan of renowne Yet lurkes vnmaym'd within her weeping walles So after all the Spoyle Disgrace and Wracke That Time the World and Death could bring combind Amidst that Masse of Ruines they did make Safe and all scarreâ—lesse yet remaines my Minde From this so high tranâ—cending Rapture springs That I all else defac'd not enuie Kings LEt vs each day enure our selues to dye If this and not our feares be truelie Death Aboue the Circles both of Hope and Faith With faire immortall Pinniones to flie If this be Death our best Part to vntye By ruining the Iaile from Lust