Selected quad for the lemma: england_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
england_n	earl_n	lord_n	philip_n	2,667	5	10.0712	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A65112	The works of Virgil containing his Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis : adorn'd with a hundred sculptures / translated into English verse by Mr. Dryden.	Virgil.; Virgil. Bucolica.; Virgil. Georgica.; Virgil. Aeneis.; Dryden, John, 1631-1700.	1697 (1697)	Wing V616; ESTC R26296	421,337	914

before the Town both Armies lye While Night with sable Wings o'respreads the Sky The Twelfth Book of the Aeneis The Argument Turnus challenges Aeneas to a single Combat Articles are agreed on but broken by the Rutili who wound Aeneas He is miraculously cur'd by Venus forces Turnus to a Duel and concludes the Poem with his Death WHen Turnus saw the Latins leave the Field Their Armies broken and their Courage quell'd Himself become the Mark of publick Spight His Honour question'd for the promis'd Fight The more he was with Vulgar hate oppress'd The more his Fury boil'd within his Breast He rowz'd his Vigour for the last Debate And rais'd his haughty Soul to meet his Fate As when the Swains the Lybian Lion chase He makes a sour Retreat nor mends his Pace But if the pointed Jav'lin pierce his Side The lordly Beast returns with double Pride He wrenches out the Steel he roars for Pain His sides he lashes and erects his Mane So Turnus fares his Eye-balls flash with Fire And his wide Nostrils Clouds of Smoke expire Trembling with Rage around the Court he ran At length approach'd the King and thus began No more excuses or Delays I stand In Arms prepar'd to Combat hand to hand This base Deserter of his Native Land The Trojan by his Word is bound to take The same Conditions which himself did make To y e Right Hon ble Phillip Lord Stanhope Earle of Chesterfield Baron of Shelford in the Kingdom of England AE 12. l. 1. Renew the Truce the solemn Rites prepare And to my single Virtue trust the War The Latians unconcern'd shall see the Fight This Arm unaided shall assert your Right Then if my prostrate Body press the Plain To him the Crown and beauteous Bride remain To whom the King sedately thus reply'd Brave Youth the more your Valour has been try'd The more becomes it us with due Respect To weigh the chance of War which you neglect You want not Wealth or a successive Throne Or Cities which your Arms have made your own My Towns and Treasures are at your Command And stor'd with blooming Beauties is my Land Laurentum more than one Lavinia sees Unmarry'd fair of Noble Families Now let me speak and you with Patience hear Things which perhaps may grate a Lover's Ear But sound Advice proceeding from a heart Sincerely yours and free from fraudful Art The Gods by Signs have manifestly shown No Prince Italian born shou'd heir my Throne Oft have our Augurs in Prediction skill'd And oft our Priests a Foreign Son reveal'd Yet won by Worth that cannot be withstood Brib'd by my Kindness to my kindred Blood Urg'd by my Wife who wou'd not be deny'd I promis'd my Lavinia for your Bride Her from her plighted Lord by force I took All tyes of Treaties and of Honour broke On your Account I wag'd an impious War With what Success 't is needless to declare I and my Subjects feel and you have had your Share Twice vanquish'd while in bloody Fields we strive Scarce in our Walls we keep our Hopes alive The rowling Flood runs warm with human Gore The Bones of Latians blanch the neighb'ring Shore Why put I not an end to this Debate Still unresolv'd and still a Slave to Fate If Turnus's Death a lasting Peace can give Why shou'd I not procure it while you live Shou'd I to doubtful Arms your Youth betray What wou'd my Kinsmen the Rutulians say And shou'd you fall in Fight which Heav'n defend How curse the Cause which hasten'd to his end The Daughter's Lover and the Father's Friend Weigh in your Mind the various Chance of War Pity your Parent 's Age and ease his Care Such balmy Words he pour'd but all in vain The proffer'd Med'cine but provok'd the Pain The wrathful Youth disdaining the Relief With intermitting Sobs thus vents his Grief The care O best of Fathers which you take For my Concerns at my Desire forsake Permit me not to languish out my Days But make the best exchange of Life for Praise This Arm this Lance can well dispute the Prize And the Blood follows where the Weapon flies His Goddess Mother is not near to shrowd The flying Coward with an empty Cloud But now the Queen who fear'd for Turnus Life And loath'd the hard Conditions of the Strife Held him by Force and dying in his Death In these sad Accents gave her Sorrow breath O Turnus I adjure thee by these Tears And what e're price Amata's Honour bears Within thy Breast since thou art all my hope My sickly Mind's repose my sinking Age's Prop Since on the safety of thy Life alone Depends Latinus and the Latian Throne Refuse me not this one this only Pray'r To wave the Combat and pursue the War Whatever chance attends this fatal Strife Think it includes in thine Amata's Life I cannot live a Slave or see my Throne Usurp'd by Strangers or a Trojan Son At this a Flood of Tears Lavinia shed A crimson Blush her beauteous Face o'respread Varying her Cheeks by Turns with white and red The driving Colours never at a stay Run here and there and flush and fade away Delightful change Thus Indian Iv'ry shows Which with the bord'ring Paint of Purple glows Or Lillies damask'd by the neighb'ring Rose The Lover gaz'd and burning with desire The more he look'd the more he fed the Fire Revenge and jealous Rage and secret Spight Rowl in his Breast and rowze him to the Fight Then fixing on the Queen his ardent Eyes Firm to his first intent he thus replies O Mother do not by your Tears prepare Such boding Omens and prejudge the War Resolv'd on Fight I am no longer free To shun my Death if Heav'n my Death decree Then turning to the Herald thus pursues Go greet the Trojan with ungrateful News Denounce from me that when to Morrow's Light Shall guild the Heav'ns he need not urge the Fight The Trojan and Rutulian Troops no more Shall dye with mutual Blood the Latian Shore Our single Swords the Quarrel shall decide And to the Victor be the beauteous Bride He said and striding on with speedy Pace He sought his Coursers of the Thracian Race At his Approach they toss their Heads on high And proudly neighing promise Victory The Sires of these Orythia sent from far To grace Pilumnus when he went to War The drifts of Thracian Snows were scarce so white Nor Northern Winds in fleetness match'd their Flight Officious Grooms stand ready by his Side And some with Combs their flowing Manes divide And others stroke their Chests and gently sooth their Pride He sheath'd his Limbs in Arms a temper'd Mass Of golden Metal those and Mountain Brass Then to his Head his glitt'ring Helm he ty'd And girt his faithful Fauchion to his side In his Aetnean Forge the God of Fire That Fauchion labour'd sor the Hero's Sire Immortal Keenness on the Blade bestow'd And plung'd it hissing in the Stygian Flood Prop'd on a Pillar which the Ceiling