Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A33439
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Poems by J.C. ; with additions.; Poems. Selections
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Cleveland, John, 1613-1658.
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1651
(1651)
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Wing C4684; ESTC R171391
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34,856
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98
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on every sence Whose breath can countermaund a pestilence She that can strike the best invention dead Till bafled Poetry hangs down her head She she it is She that contains all bliss And make the world but her Periphrasis UPON Sir THOMAS MARTIN Who subscribed a Warrant thus We the Knights and Gentlemen of the Committee c. when there was no Knight but himself HAng out a flag and gather pence apiece Which Africke never bred nor swelling Greece With stories timpany a beast so rare No Lecturers wrought cap nor Bartlemew Fare Can match him Natures whimsey one that out-vyes Tredeskin and his ark of Novelties The Gog and Magog of prodigious sights With reverence to your eyes Sir Thomas Knights But is this bigamy of titles due Are you Sir Thomas and Sir Martin too Issachar Couchant 'twixt a brace of Sirs Thou Knighthood in a pair of Panniers Thou that look'st wrapt up in thy Warlike leather Like Valentine and Orson bound together Spurs representative thou that art able To be a Voider to King Arthurs Table Who in this sacrilegious mass of all It seems ha's swallowed Windsors Hospital Pair-royal headed Cerberus his Cozen Hercules labours were a Bakers dozen Had he but trumpt on thee whose forked neck Might well have answered at the Font for Smeck But can a Knighthood on a Knighthood lie Mettal on Mettal is ill Armorie And yet the known Godfrey of Bulloin's coat Shines in exception to the Heraulds vote Great spirits move not by pedantick laws Their actions though eccentrick state the cause And Priscan bleeds with honour Caesar thus Subscrib'd two Consuls with one Iulius Tom never oaded Squire scarce Yeoman high Is Tom twice dipt Knight of a double dy Fond man whose fate is in his name betray'd It is the setting Sun doubles his shade But it s no matter for Amphibious he May have a Knight hang'd yet Sir Tom go free On the memory of Mr. Edward King drown'd in the Irish Seas I Like not tears in tune nor do I prize His artificial grief who scans his eyes Mine weep down pious beads but why should I Confine them to the Muses Rosary I am no Poet here my pen's the spout Where the Rain-water of mine eyes runs out In pitie of that Name whose fare we see Thus copi'd out in griefs Hydrography The Muses are not Mair-maids though upon His death the Ocean might turn Helicon The Sea 's too rough for verse who rhimes upon 't With Xerxes strives to fetter th' Hellespont My tears will keep no channel know no laws To guid their streams but like the waves their cause Run with disturbance till they swallow me As a description of his miserie But can his spacious virtue find a grave Within th' impostum'd bubble of a wave Whose learning if we sound we must confess The Sea but shallow and him bottomless Could not the Winds to counter-maund thy death With their whole card of Lungs redeem thy breath Or some new Island in thy rescue peep To heave thy resurrection from the deep That so the world might see thy safety wrought With no less wonder than thy self was thought The famous Stagarite who in his life Had nature as familiar as his wife Bequeath'd his Widow to survive with thee Queen Dowager of all Philosophie An ominous Legacy that did portend Thy fate and Predecessours second end Some have affirm'd that what on earth we find The sea can parallel in shape and kind Books arts and tongues were wanting but in thee Neptune hath got an Universiitie We 'l dive no more for pearls the hope to see Thy sacred reliques of mortality Shall welcome storms and make the Sea-men prize His shipwrack now more than his merchandize He shall embrace the waves and to thy Tomb As to a Royaller Exchange shall come What can we now expect water and fire Both elements our ruine do conspire And that dissolves us which doth us compound One Vatican was burnt another drown'd We of the Gown our Libraries must toss To understand the greatness of our loss Be Pupils to our grief and so much grow In learning as our sorrows overflow When we have fil'd the Rundlets of our eyes We 'l issue't forth and vent such Elegies As that our tears shall seem the Irish Seas We floating Islands living Hebrides On the same TEll me no more of Stoicks canst thou tell who 't was that when the waves began to swell The ship to sink sad passengers to call Master we perish slept secure of all Remember this and him that waking kept A mind as constant as he did that slept Canst thou give credit to his zeal and love That went to Heaven and to those flames above Wrapt in a fiery chariot Since I heard who 't was that on his knees the Vessel steer'd With hands bolt up to Heaven since I see As yet no sign of his mortality Pardon me Reader if I say he 's gone The self same journey in a watry one The Hue and Cry after Sir Iohn Presbyter WIth Hair in Characters and Lugs in Text With a splay mouth a nose circumflext With a set Ruff of Musket bore that wears Like Cartrages or linnen Bandileers Exhausted of their sulphurous Contents In Pulpit fire-works which that Bomball vents The Negative and Covenanting Oath Like two Mustachoes issuing from his mouth The Bush upon his chin like a carv'd story In a Box knot cut by the Directory Madams Confession hanging at his ear Wiredrawn through all the questions How and Where Each circumstance so in the hearing Felt That when his ears are cropt he 'l count them gelt The sweeping Cassock scar'd into a Jump A sign the Presbyter's worn to the stump The Presbyter though charm'd against mischance With the Divine right of an Ordinance If you meet any that do thus attire'em Stop them they are the tribe of Adoniram What zealous Frenzie did the Senate seize That tare the Rotchet to such Rags as these Episcopacy minc't Reforming Tweed Hath sent us Runts even of her Churches breed Lay-interlining Clergy a Device That 's nick-name to the stuff call'd Lops and Lice The Beast at wrong end branded you may trace The Devills footsteps in his cloven Face A Face of severall Parishes and sorts Like to a Sergeant shav'd at Inns of Court What mean the Eldders else those Kirk Dragoons Made up of Ears and Ruffs like Ducatoons That Hierarchy of Handicrafts begun Those new Exchange-men of Religion Sure they 're the Antick heads which plac'd without The Church go gape and disembogue a spout Like them above the Commons House have bin So long without now both are gotten in Then what Imperious in the Bishop sounds The same the Scotch Executor rebounds This stating Prelacy the Classick Rout That spake it often ere it spake it out So by an Abbies Scheleton of late I heard an Eccho Supererogate Through imperfection and the voice restore As if she had the hicop o're and o're Since they our mixt Diocâ—sans