Selected quad for the lemma: death_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
death_n	work_v	wrought_v	yield_v	16	3	6.0933	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A06415	Lucans Pharsalia: or The ciuill warres of Rome, betweene Pompey the great, and Iulius Cæsar The whole tenne bookes, Englished by Thomas May, Esquire.; Pharsalia. English	Lucan, 39-65.; May, Thomas, 1595-1650.; Hulsius, Friedrich van, b. 1580, engraver.	1631 (1631)	STC 16888; ESTC S108868	158,607	432

the armyes marching on apace Neere met stood parted but a little space They veiw'd each others hands striving to know Each others face thinking which way to throw Their piles from whence their fates most threatning show What monstrous acts they were about to doe There they their brothers and their fathers spy'd Against them stand yet would not change their side But piety their breasts amazed held And the cold blood in every limme congeal'd And every souldier his prepared pile And ready stretch'd-out arme contain'd a while The gods send thee ô Craestinus not death The common plague but feeling after breath VVhose pile first throwne of all the fight began And Thessaly with Roman blo●d did staine Oh frantike violence did Caesar stand Quiet and was there a more forward b hand Shrill cornets then began the aire to wound Th' alarums beat and all the trumpets sound The noise and showts of souldiers peirce the sky And reach the convexe of Olympus high Aboue the thundring cloudes the noise they make The Thracian Aemus sounding valleys take High Pelion's cavernes eccho backe the sound VVhich Pindus and Pangaean rockes rebound Th'Octaean mountaines grone the souldiers feare Their showtes thus eccho'd from all hills to heare Numberlesse piles with different mindes are throwne Some wish to wound others to light vpon The ground and keepe their harmelesse hands from ill Chance rules them and makes guilty whom she will But the least part of slaughter heere was done VVith darts and flying steele the sword al●ne Was able civill quarells to decide And Roman hands ' gainst Roman breasts to guide Pompey's great army narrowly dispos'd In a thicke Phalanx stand with bucklers clos'd For fence but wanted roome their rankes thus fill'd To throw their piles their swords or armes to weild But Caesars loose-rank'd troopes all nimbly goe And the thicke armed wedges of the foe Making their way through men and steele assaile And through the strongest joynted coates of maile Peirce the ill guarded breasts each stroke findes out A breast though nere so fenc'd with armes about One army suffers tother makes the war All cold and guiltlesse Pompeys weapons are All Caesars impious swords are reeking hot But fortune heere long doubting waver'd not She swiftly bore fitting so great a day A mighty ruine torrent-like away When Pompey's horse ore all the fields at large Had spred their wings the foes in flanke to charge The light arm'd souldiers scatter'd all attended And ' gainst the foe their missile weapons bended With their owne weapons every nation fought Yet by all hands the Roman blood was sought Arrowes stones fire lead headed darts were throwne Which melted in the aires hot motion There th'Ituraeans Medes Arabians shot Their shafts good archers all yet levell'd not The aire be●ore their eyes was only sought By their wilde aimes yet death from thence was wrought But no dire crime could staine the forraine steele Nought could worke mischiefe but the Roman pile The ayre was da●kened with thicke arrowes flight VVhich ore the fields orespread a suddaine night Then c Caesar fearing lest his front should yeild To their assault obliquely cohorts held VVhich suddainly from the right wing he sent VVhither the wheeling horse their forces bent But Pompey's horse vnmindefull now of fight Nor stay'd by shame at all take speedy flight Vnhappily alas were civill wars Left to the trust of barbarous souldiers As soone as ere some galled horse had throwne Their riders and their limbs had trampled on The horsemen fled and left the field each one Or turning reines vpon their fellowes run No fight ensues but execution hot One side with sword the other with bare throat Made war nor could Caesarian hands suffice To execute their routed enemies Oh would the blood that barbarous breasts did yeild Could haue suffic'd Pharsalia's mortall field And that no other blood thy streames might staine Let those bones scattered ore thy fields remaine But if thou wouldst with Roman blood be fill'd Spare all the nations Let the Spaniards wilde Th' Armenians Syrians and Cilicians Galatians Gaules and Cappadocians Surviue for when this civill war is done These people will be Romans every one These feares once rais'd through every quarter fly Sent by the fates for Caesars victory Then came the war to Pompey's Roman power The war that variously had wander'd ore The fields there stucke there Caesars fortune stay'd No forreine Kings fought there no barbarous ayde From severall nations to that place was brought There their owne brothers there their fathers fought Mischiefe and fury rag'd there Caesar are Thy crimes oh fly from this sad part of war My soule and leaue it to eternall night Let no succeeding age by what I write Learne how much ill may be in civill fight Or rather let our teares and sorrowes dy What heere thou didst O Rome conceal'd shall be Caesar th'inciting fury of his men And spur to their blind rage lest his guilt then Should wanting be at all rides through all parts Adding new fury to their fired hearts Viewing their swords looking whose points with gore VVere lightly stain'd whose blades were bloody'd ore Who faulter in their blowes who hold their hand Who faintly strike who fight as by command And who with greedinesse who changes looke To see a Roman sla●ne himselfe then tooke Survey of bodyes gasping on the ground To let out all the blo●d crushing their wounds As fierce Enyo shakes her bloody lance And Mars incites his warlike Thracians Or driues with furious lashes ore the field His Horses starting at Minerva's shield Blacke nights of slaughter and dire deedes arise Like one great voyce the dying souldiers cries Clashing of armed breasts falling to ground And swords with swords meeting and breaking sound He with fresh swords his souldiers still supplyes To strike the faces of their enemies Forcing them on still vrging at their backe And with his javeling beating on the slacke Against the Senate not Plebejan f●es He guides their hands and swords full well he knowes VVhere the lawes liue where the states blood does flow Where he may conquer Rome and overthrow The worlds last liberty Together then Fall Senators with Roman Gentlemen Those honour'd names Metells Lepidi Corvini and Torqauati slaughter'd dy That oft commanders ore great Kings haue bin And except Pompey all the best of men In a Plebejan helme disguised there What weapon noble d Bru●us didst beare The Senates highest hope R●mes greatest grace The last of all thy ancient honour'd race Through the arm'd foes rush not too rashly on Nor seeke out thy Philip●i●ke fa●e too soone Fate will to thee a Thessaly allot In vaine thou aimest there at Caesars throte He has not yet mounted the top of fate And reach'd that height that governes humane state To me●it that braue death no let him reigne That he as Brutus offring may he slaine Heere call Romes honour dyes heere heap'd on high The slaughter'd Senate with Plebeians ly But ' mongst those nobles that

determines to assault their wall Whilest fortune's hot and terrour workes in all Nor does he thinke that this command appeares Too harsh too hot and weary'd souldiers Small exhortation leads them to the prey Our victory quoth he is full to day And for our blood nought is remaining now But the reward which 't is my part to show I cannot say to giue what every man Shall giue himselfe behold yon tents that stand Full of all riches there gold rak'd in Spaine There th' Easterne Nations treasuryes remaine Pompey's and all those Kings estates doe lacke Possessours souldiers run and overtake Whom you pursue and what so ere to you Pharsalia giues take from the conquer'd now This speech of Caesars and golds impious loue Over the swords the furious souldiers droue To tread on Senatours and Captaines slaine What trench what bulwarke could their force susteine Seeking the price of all their wars and sin To know for what they haue so guilty been Spoiling the world they found a wealthy masse Which for wars future charges gather'd was But their all-covering thoughts could not be fill'd With what Spa●nes mines and Tagus streames could yeild Or on their sands rich Arimaspians finde Though all the spoiles be theirs yet in their minde Their mischeife at too cheape a sale they vent And are bid losse in spoiling of these tents VVhen to himselfe the Conquerour Rome decree'd And in that hope whole mountaines promised Patricians tents impious Plebejans keepe In Kings pavilions common souldiers sleepe On brothers and on fathers empty beds The killers lay their parricidall heads But furious dreames disturbe their restlesse rest Thessalia's fight remaines in every breast Their horrid guilt still wakes the battell stands In all their thoughts they brandish empty hands Without their swords you would haue thought the feild Had groan'd and that the guilty earth did yeild Exhaled spirits that in the aire did moue And Stygian feares possest the night aboue A sad revenge on them their conquest takes Their sleepes present the furies hissing snakes And brands their countreymens sad ghosts appeare To each the image of his proper feare One sees an old mans visage one a young Another's tortu●'d all the evening long With his slaine brothers spirit their fathers sight Dants some but Caesar's soule all ghosts aff●ight Orestes so not purg'd in Scythia Th' Eumenides affrighting faces saw Not more was Pentheus in Agaves fit Dismay'd nor she when she was free'd from it Him all the swords that dire Pharsalia saw And which the Senate in revenge should draw Oppresse that night and Hellish-monsters scourge But that which most his guilty soule did vrge Was this that S●yx the fiends and furyes grim Pompey being yet aliue had seiz'd on him But having suffred all when dayes cleare light Display'd Pharsalia's slaughter to his sight No dismall objects could ●uert his eyes From thence the rivers swell'd with blood he sees And heapes of bodyes aequalling high hills And car●asses whence blood and filth distills He numbers Pompey's people and that place Ordaines for banquetting from whence each face He might discerne and know them as they ly Proud that Aemathia's earth he cannot see Or scarse discerne the slaughter-cover'd ground In blood his fortune and his gods he found And with that joyfull sight to feede his eyes To the wretch'd soules he funerall fire denyes Making Aemathia noisome to the aire Carthage that gaue our consuls sepulcher And Libyan fire on Cannae did conferre Could not teach him his enemies t' inter Remembring still his anger not even then With slaughter slack'd they were his countrey men VVe doe not seuerall fires or tombs desire Doe but to all these nations grant one fire And let them not on pyles distinct be brent Or if thou aime at Pompey's punishment Pyl'd vp let Pindus wood and Ossa be That he from sea Pharsalia's fire may see This anger bootes thee not fort is all one VVhether the fire or putrefaction Dissolue them all to natures bosome goe And to themselues their ends the bodyes owe. If now these nations Caesar be not burn'd They shall when earth and seas to flames are turn'd One fire shall burne the world and with the sky Shall mixe these bones where ere thy soule shall be Their soules shall goe in ayre thou shalt not fly Higher nor better in Avernus ly Death frees from fortune Earth receiues againe VVhat ever she brought forth and they obtaine Heavens coverture that haue no vrnes at all Thou that deny'st these nations funerall VVhy dost thou fly these slaughter smelling fields Breath if thou canst the aire this region yeilds Or drinke this water Caesar but from thee The rotting people challenge Thessaly And keepe possession ' gainst the conquerer To the sad food of this Aemathian war Senting from far the bloods corruption The Thracian wolues Arcadian lions run Beares from their dens dogs from their kennells come And all those ravenous creatures else on whom Nature bestowes the strongest sents ful well The ayre by carrion putrify'd to smell Hither all birds of prey assembled are That long had waited on this civill war Birds that from Thrace to Nile in winter goe Stay'● longer then then they were wont to doe Nere did moe birds of prey in one ayre fly Nor did moe vulturs ever cloud the sky From every wood came foule each tree was fil'd With bloody birds that crimson drops distill'd Downe from the aire blood and corruption rain'd The conquerours face and impious eagles stain'd Birds from their weary tallands oft let fall Gobbets of flosh nor were the people all Consumed so buryed in bird or beast Which would not on their bowels fully feast Nor sucke their marrow all but lightly tast The greatest part of Roman flesh is cast Disdain'd away which by the Sunne and time Dissolv'd is mixed with Thessalian slime Vnhappy Thessaly what hast thou done T' offend the angry gods that thee alone So many deaths and impious fates should staine What age what length of time can purge againe The gu●lt that thou hast wrought what corne in thee And grasse with blood discolour'd shall not be What plow share but some Roman ghost shall wound Before that time new battells on thy ground Shall be and impious civill wars shall staine Thy fields before this blood be dry againe If all the graues of our dead ancesters We should turne vp their tombes that stand and theirs Whose time-consumed vrnes haue cast abroad Th'enclosed dust moe ashes would be trod And bones by harrows teeth digg'd vp and found In the sad fur●owes of Thessaliaes ground No Marriners had sailed from thy shore Nor Husbandmen had plow'd thee any more The Roman peoples graue thy ghostly field Had no inhabitant for ever till'd No heards of cattell on thy plaines had run Nor durst the shepheards feede their flockes vpon Thy pasture fields with Roman blood manur'd Nor habitable nor to be endur'd As in the torrid or cold i y zone Shouldst thou haue lyen forsaken

hand a shield of shinning brasse Wherein to see the stone transforming face Of sterne Medusa Pallas bad him keepe Then lay'd Medusa in an endlesse sleepe But yet not all part of her snaky haire Defends her head some snakes still waking are Some ore her face and sleeping eylids glide Minerva doth th'averted Perseus guide And with a trembling hand directs the stroake Of his Cyllenian Harpe which quite broke Her large snake-cover'd necke How strange a looke Had Gorgons head cut off by Perseus stroke And towring blade what poyson did arise In her blacke mouth what death shot from her eyes Which not Minerva durst to looke vpon And Perseus sure had bin congeal'd to stone Had not Minerva hid that dismall face With those snake-haires Now Perseus flyes a pace To heaven with Gorgons head but in his mind Considering how the nearest way to find Over the midst of Europe meanes to fly But Pallas straight forbids that injury To Europes fruitfull fields and bids him spare The people there for who can in the ayre Refraine to gaz when such a bird he spyes Perseus converts his course and Westward flyes Ore desert Libya whose vnfruitfull seat Vntill'd lyes ope to nought but Phaebus heat Who runs his burning course straight ore their heads No land then this a larger shadow spreads ' Gainst heaven nor more the moones ecclipse doth cause When straying not in latitude she drawes Neither to North nor South but still is found In signes direct· Yet this vnfruitfull ground Barren in all that 's good a seed could yeild From venome which Medusaes head distill'd From those dire drops mixt with the putrid earth Sols aiding heat did giue new monsters birth First from that dust so mixt with poyson bred Rose the sleep-causing Aspe with swelling head Made of the thickest drop of Gorgons gore Which in no serpent is compacted more She wanting heat seekes not a colder clime Content to liue in her owne Libyaes slime But oh how shamelesse is our thirst of gaine Those Libyan deaths are carryed ore the maine And Aspes at Rome are sold as marchandise In scaly folds the great Haemorrhus lyes Whose bite from all parts drawes the flowing blood Chersidros then that both in land and flood Of doubtfull Syrtes liues Chelydri too That make a reeking slime where ere they goe The Cenchris creeping in a tract direct Whose speckled belly with moe spots is dect Then ere the various Theban marble takes Sand-colour'd Ammodytes the horned snakes That creepe in winding tracks the Scytale No snake in winter casts her skin but she The double-head Dipsas that thirsty makes The water-spoyling Newte the dart-like snakes The Pareas whose way his tale doth guide The Prester too whose sting distendeth wide The wounded's foamy mouth the Seps whose bite Consumes the bones dissolues the body quite The Basiliske whose hisse all snakes doth scarre Hurtfull before the venome touch who far All vulgar serpents from his sight commands Reigning alone vpon the empty'd sands You dragons too glistring in golden pride Who hurtlesse wander through all lands beside Hot Affrik mortall makes aloft you fly Through the ayre on wings and follow speedily The heards your strokes the mightyest buls destroy Great Elephants not escape you all you kill Nor neede you poysons helpe to worke your will This thirsty way among these venom'd snakes Cato amidst his hardy souldiers takes Where many losses of his men he found And deaths vnusuall from a little wound A trodden Dipsas turning backe his head Did bite young Aulus Ensigne bearer bred Of Tyrrhene race no griefe nor paine ensew'd His wound no pity found no danger shew'd But in alas did fiery venome deepe Into his ma●row and scorch'd entrailes creepe Which quite drunke vp all moisture that should flow Into his vitall parts his palate now And tongue is scorch'd and dry no sweate could goe To his tir'd joynts from 's eyes no teares could flow His place nor his sad generalls command Could stay this thirsty man out of his hand He throwes his Eagle water runs to haue Which the dry venome in his heart did craue Though he in midst of Tanais did ly Padus or Rodanus he would be dry Or drinke the streamer where ever Nilus flowes The soyle ads to his drought the worme doth loose Her venoms fame help'd by so hot a land He digs and seekes each veine in all the sand Now to the Syrts he goes and in his mouth Salt water takes which could not quench his drought Although it pleas'd He did not know what kinde Of death he dy'd nor his disease could finde But thinkes it thirst and now full faine he would Rip open all his veines and drinke his blood Cato commands them loath his men should stay To know what thirst was straight to march away But a more wofull death before his eye Appear'd A Seps no poore Sabellus thigh Hung by the teeth which he straight with his hands Cast off and with his pile nail'd to the sands A little snake but none more full then she Of horrid death the flesh falls off that nigh The wound did grow the bones are bared round Without the body naked shewes the wound His shankes fall off matter each members fills His knees are bar'd his groine blacke filth distills And every muscle of his thighes dissolues The skin that all his naturall parts involues Breaking lets fall his bowels nor doth all That should remaine of a dead body fall The cruell venome eating all the parts Al● to a little poisonous filth converts The poison breakes his nerues his ribs doth part Opens his hollow breast there shewes his heart His vitalls all yea all that man composes And his whole nature this foule death discloses His head necke shoulders and strong armes doe flow In venomous filth not sooner melts the snow By hot South windes nor waxe against the Sunne This is but small I speake burnt bodyes run Melted by fire in filth but what fire ere Dissolv'd the bones no bones of his appeare Following their putrid iuice they leaue no signe Of this swift death the palme is only thine Of all the Libyan snakes the soule take they But thou alone the carcasse tak'st away But lo a death quite contrary to it Marsian Nasidius an hot Prester bit Whose face and cheekes a suddaine fire did rost His flesh and skin was stretch'd his shape was lost His swelling body is distended far Past humane growth and vndistinguishd are His limmes all parts the poison doth confound And he lyes hid in his owne body drown'd Nor can his armour keepe his swolne growth in Not more doth boyling water rise within A brazen caldron nor are sailes more swell'd By Westerne windes No limme he now can weild A globe deform'd he is an heape confus'd Which ravening beasts did feare which birds refus'd To which his friends durst doe no obsequy Nor touch but from the growing carcasse fly But yet these snakes present more horrid sights A fierce Hamorrhus noble

first they saw fierce Lions crosse their way Leptis was neer'st which quiet harbour lent Their winter free from heat and stormes they spent Now Caesar with Pharsaliaes slaughter cloy'd Leaving all other cares his thoughts employ'd In the poursuite of Pompey and was brought VVhen he his steps by land had vainely sought By fames report to sea and passed ore The Thracian straights and that loue-famed shore VVhere once faire Heroes wofull turret stood VVhere Helles tra●oe●y new-nam'd the flood No arme of sea bounds with a streame so small Asia from Europe though Propontis fall Narrow into the ●uxine sea and from Purple Chalcedon part Byzanti●m Thence goes to see renown'● Sigaean sands The streame of Simois and Rhaetaean lands Fa●●'d for the Grae●ian worthye● tombe wherely Great ghosts so much in debt to Poetry Sack'd Troyes yet honour'd name he goes about To finde th' old wall of great Apollo out Now fruitlesse trees old oakes with putrify'd And rotten r●otes the Trojan hou●es hide And temples of their gods all Troy's orespred VVith bushes thi●ke h●r ruines ruined He se●s the bridall groue An●hises lodg'd Hesiones rocke the caue where Paris iudg'd VVhere nimph Oenone play'd ●he place so fam'd For Ganimedes rape each stone is nam'd A little gliding streame which Xanthus was Vnknowne he past and in the lofty grasse Securely trode a Phrygian straight forbid Him ●r●ade on Hectors dust with ruines hid The stone retain'd no sacred memory Respect you not great Hectors tombe quoth he Oh great and sacred worke of Poesy That freest from fate and giv'st eternity To mortall wights but Caesar envy not Their living names if Roman muses ought May promise th●e while Homer's honoured By future t●mes shall thou and I be read No age shall vs with darke oblivion staine But our Pharsalia ever shall remaine Then Caesar pleas'd with sight of these so prais'd Antiquities a greene turfe-alter rais'd And by the frankincense-fed fire prepar'd These orizons not vaine you gods that guard These Heroes dust and in Troyes ruines reigne Aeneas houshold gods that still mainteine In Alba and Lavinia your shrines Vpon whose altars fire yet Trojan shines Thou sacred temple clos'd Palladium That in the sight of man did'st never come The greatest heire of all Iulus race Here in your former seate implores your grace And pious incense on your altars layes Prosper my course and thankefull Rome shall raise Troyes walls againe your people I le restore And build a Roman Troy This said to shore He hasts takes shipping and to Corus lends His full-spread sailes with hast to make amends For these delayes and with a prosperous winde Leaues wealthy Asia and faire Rhodes behinde The VVestwinde blowing still the seaventh night Discovers Aegypts shore by Pharian light But ere they reach the harbour day appeares And dimmes the nightly fires when Caesar heares Strange tumults on the shore noises of men And doubtfull murmurings and fearing then To trust himselfe at land st●yes in his fleete VVhom straight Achillas launches forth to meete Bringing his Kings dire gift great Pompey's head VVith an Aegyptian mantle covered And thus his crime with impious words to grace Lord of the world greatest of Roman race And now secure which yet thou doest not know In Pompey's death my King doth heere bestow VVhat only wanted in Pharsalia's field And what thy wars and travells end will yeild VVe in thy absence finish'd civill war For Pompey heere desiring to repaire Thessalia's ruines by our sword lyes slaine By this great pledge Caesar we seeke to gaine Thy loue and in his blood our league to make Heere without bloodshed Aegypts kingdome take Take all Niles fertile regions and receiue VVhat ever thou for Pompey's head would'st giue Thinke him a freind worthy thine armes to haue To whom the fates such power ore Pompey gaue Nor thinke his merit cheape since brought to passe VVith easy slaughter his old freind he was And to his banish'd father did restore The crowne of Aegypt But why speake I more Finde thou a name for this great worke of his Or aske the world if villany it is The more thou ow'st to him that from thee tooke This act of villany Thus having spoke Straight he vncovers and presents the head VVhose scarse-knowne lookes pale death had altered Caesar at first his gift would not refuse Nor turne his eyes away but fixtly veiwes Till he perceiv'd 't was true and plainely saw 'T was safe to be a pious father in law Then shed forc'd teares and from a joyfull breast Drew sighs and grones as thinking teares would best Conceale his inward joy so quite orethrowes The tyrants merit and doth rather choose To weepe then ow to him for Pompey's head He that on slaughter'd Senators could tread And see the blood-stain'd fields of Thessaly Dry-ey'd to thee alone durst not deny The tribute of his eyes Strange turne of fate Weep'st thou for him whom thou with impious hate Caesar so long pursu'dst could not the loue Of Daughter Nephew not aliance mooue Think'st thou among those people that bewaile Great Pompey's death these teares can ought availe Perchance thou envy'st Ptolomeys dire fact And griev'st that any had the power to act This but thy selfe that the revenge of war Was lost and taken from the conquerer What cause so ever did thy sorrow mooue It was far distant from a pious loue Was this the cause that thy pursuite did draw Ore land and sea to saue thy sonne in law 'T was well sad fortune tooke the doome from thee And spar'd so far a Roman modesty As not to suffer thee false man to giue Pardon to him or pity him aliue Yet to deceiue the world and gaine beleife Thou add'st a language to thy fained greife Thy bloody present from our presence beare For worse from Caesar then slaine Pompey here Your wickednesse deserues the only meede Of civill warre to spare the conquered We loose by this and did not Ptolomey His sister hate I could with ease repay This gift of his and for so blacke a deede Returne his sister Cleopatras head Why wag'd he secret war or why durst he Thus thrust his sword into our worke did we By our Pharsalian victory afford Your King this power or license Aegypts sword I brook'd not Pompey to beare share with me In rule of Rome and shall I Ptolomey All nations joyned in our war in vaine If any other power on earth remaine But Caesar now if any land serue two VVe were determin'd from your shore to goe But fame forbid vs lest we should seeme more To feare then hate dire Aegypts bloody shore And doe not thinke you haue deceived me To vs was meant such hospitality And 't was our fortune in Thessaliaes war That frees this head VVith greater danger far Then could be feard we fought I fear'd the doome Of banishment the threats of wrathfull Rome And Pompey's force but had I fled I see My punishment had come from Ptolomey VVe spare his age and