Selected quad for the lemma: england_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
england_n	world_n	write_v	year_n	249	4	4.2508	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A06468	Bosvvorth-field with a taste of the variety of other poems, left by Sir Iohn Beaumont, Baronet, deceased: set forth by his sonne, Sir Iohn Beaumont, Baronet; and dedicated to the Kings most Excellent Maiestie.	Beaumont, John, Sir, 1583-1627.; Beaumont, John, Sir, d. 1644.	1629 (1629)	STC 1694; ESTC S101234	77,419	230

Shepherdesse to sing She blusht and sung while they with words of praise Contend her songs aboue their worth to raise Thus being chear'd with many courteous signes She takes her leaue for now the Sunne declines And hauing driuen home her flocks againe She meets her Loue a simple Shepherd Swaine Yet in the Plaines he had a Poets name For he could Roundelayes and Carols frame Which when his Mistresse sung along the Downes Was thought celestiall Musick by the Clownes Of him she begs that he would raise his mind To paint this Lady whom she found so kind You oft saith she haue in our homely Bow'rs Discours'd of Demi-gods and greater pow'rs For you with Hesiode sleeping learnt to know The race diuine from heau'n to earth below My Deare said he the Nymph whom thou hast seene Most happy is of all that liue betweene This Globe and Cynthia and in high estate Of wealth and beauty hath an equall mate Whose loue hath drawne vncessant teares in floods From Nymphs that haunt the waters and the woods Of Iris to the ground hath bent her bow To steale a kisse and then away to goe Yet all in vaine he no affection knowes But to this Goddesse whom at first he chose Him she enioyes in mutuall bonds of loue Two hearts are taught in one small point to moue Her Father high in honour and descent Commands the Syluans on the Northside Trent He at this time for pleasure and retreate Comes downe from Beluoir his ascending seate To which great Pan had lately honour done For there he lay so did his hopefull Sonne But when this Lord by his accesse desires To grace our Dales he to a house retires Whose walles are water'd with our siluer Brookes And makes the Shepherds proud to view his lookes There in that blessed house you also saw His Lady whose admired vertues draw All hearts to loue her and all tongues inuite To praise that ayre where she vouchsafes her light And for thy further ioy thine eyes were blest To see another Lady in whose brest True Wisedome hath with Bounty equall place As Modesty with Beauty in her face She found me singing Floraes natiue dowres And made me sing before the heau'nly pow'rs For which great fauour till my voice be done I sing of her and her thrice-noble sonne On the Anniuersary day of his Maiesties reigne ouer England March the 24. written at the beginning of his twentieth yeere THe world to morrow celebrates with mirth The ioyfull peace betweene the heau'n earth To day let Britaine praise that rising light Whose titles her diuided parts vnite The time since safety triumph'd ouer feare Is now extended to the twenti'th yeere Thou happy yeere with perfect number blest O slide as smooth and gentle as the rest That when the Sunne dispersing from his head The clouds of Winter on his beauty spred Shall see his Equinoctiall point againe And melt his dusky maske to fruitfull raine He may be loth our Climate to forsake And thence a patterne of such glory take That he would leaue the Zodiake and desire To dwell foreuer with our Northerne fire A thanksgiuing for the deliuerance of our Soueraigne King Iames from a dangerous accident Ianuary 8. O Gracious Maker on whose smiles or frownes Depends the Fate of Scepters and of Crownes Whose hand not onely holds the hearts of Kings But all their steps are shadow'd with thy wings To thee immortall thanks three Sisters giue For sauing him by whose deare life they liue First England crown'd with Roses of the Spring An off'ring like to Abels gift will bring And vowes that she for thee alone will keepe Her fattest Lambes and Fleeces of her sheepe Next Scotland triumphs that she bore and bred This Iles delight and wearing on her head A wreath of Lillies gather'd in the field Presents the Min'rals which her mountaines yeeld Last Ireland like Terpsichore attir'd With neuer-fading Lawrell and inspir'd By true Apollos heat a Paean sings And kindles zealous flames with siluer strings This day a sacrifice of praise requires Our brests are Altars and our ioyes are fires That sacred Head so oft so strangely blest From bloody plots was now O feare deprest Beneath the water and those Sunlike beames Were threat'ned to be quencht in narrow streames Ah! who dare thinke or can indure to heare Of those sad dangers which then seem'd so neare VVhat Pan would haue preferu'd our flocks increase From VVolues VVhat Hermes could with words of peace Cause whetted swords to fall frō angry hands And shine the Starre of calmes in Christian Lands But Thou whose Eye to hidden depths extends To shew that he was made for glorious ends Hast rays'd him by thine All-commanding arme Not onely safe from death but free from harme To his late Maiesly concerning the true forme of English Poetry GReat King the Sou'raigne Ruler of this Land By whose graue care our hopes securely stand Since you descending from that spacious reach Vouchsafe to be our Master and to teach Your English Poets to direct their lines To mixe their colours and expresse their signes Forgiue my boldnesse that I here present The life of Muses yeelding true content In ponder'd numbers which with ease I try'd When your iudicious rules haue been my guide He makes sweet Musick who in serious lines Light dancing tunes and heauy prose declines When verses like a milky torrent flow They equall temper in the Poet show He paints true formes who with a modest heart Giues lustre to his worke yet couers Art Vneuen swelling is no way to fa●●● But solid ioyning of the perfect frame So that no curious finger there can find The former chinkes or nailes that fastly bind Yet most would haue the knots of stitches seene And holes where men may thrust their hands between On halting feet the ragged Poem goes With Accents neither fitting Verse nor Prose The stile mine care with more contentment fills In Lawyers pleadings or Phisicians bills For though in termes of Art their skill they close And ioy in darksome words as well as those They yet haue perfect sense more pure and cleare Then enuious Muses which sad Garlands weare Of dusky clouds their strange conceits to hide From humane eyes and lest they should be spi'd By some sharpe Oedipus the English Tongue For this their poore ambition suffers wrong In eu'ry Language now in Europe spoke By Nations which the Roman Empire broke The rellish of the Muse consists in rime One verse must meete another like a chime Our Saxon shortnesse hath peculiar grace In choise of words fit for the ending place Which leaue impression in the mind as well As closing sounds of some delightfull bell These must not be with disproportion lame Nor should an Eccho still repeate the same In many changes these may be exprest But those that ioyne most simply run the best Their forme surpassing farre the fetter'd staues Vaine care and needlesse repetition saues These outward ashes keepe those inward

wheeles to run Vntill the length of his whole course be spun No enuious cloud obscures his struggling light VVhich sets contented at the point of night Yet this large time no greater profit brings Then eu'ry little moment whence it springs Vnlesse imploy'd in workes deseruing praise Most weare out many yeeres and liue few dayes Time flowes from instants and of these each one Should be esteem'd as if it were alone The shortest space which we so lightly prize VVhen it is comming and before our eyes Let it but slide into th' eternall Maine No Realmes no worlds can purchase it againe Remembrance onely makes the footsteps last VVhen winged Time which fixt the prints is past This he well-knowing all occasions tries T' enrich his owne and others learned eyes This noble end not hope of gaine did draw His minde to trauaile in the knotty Law That was to him by serious labour made A Science which to many is a Trade VVho purchase lands build houses by their tongue And study right that they may practise wrong His bookes were his rich purchases his fees That praise which Fame to painefull works decrees His mem'ry hath a surer ground then theirs VVho trust in stately Tombes or wealthy Heires To the immortall memory of the fairest and most vertuous Lady the Lady Clifton HEr tongue hath ceast to speake which might make dumbe All tongues might stay all Pens all hands ben●●● Yet I must write O that it might haue beene While she had liu'd and had my verses seene Before sad cries deaf'd my vntuned eares When verses flow'd more easily then teares Ah why neglected I to write her prayse And paint her Vertues in those happy dayes Then my now trembling hand and dazled eye Had seldome fail'd hauing the patterne by Or had it err'd or made some strokes amisse For who can portray vertue as it is Art might with Nature haue maintain'd her strife By curious lines to imitate true life But now those Pictures want their liuely grace As after death none can well draw the face We let our friends passe idlely like our time Till they be gone then we see our crime And thinke what worth in them might haue beene known What duties done and what affection showne Vntimely knowledge which so deare doth cost And then beginnes when the thing knowne is lost Yet this cold loue this enuie this neglect Proclaimes vs modest while our due respect To goodnesse is restrain'd by seruile feare Lest to the world it flatt'ry should appeare As if the present houres deseru'd no prayse But age is past whose knowledge onely stayes On that weake prop which memory sustaines Should be the proper subiect of our straines Or as if foolish men asham'd to sing Of Violets and Roses in the Spring Should tarry till the flow'rs were blowne away And till the Muses life and heate decay Then is the fury slak'd the vigour fled As here in mine since it with her was dead Which still may sparkle but shall flame no more Because no time shall her to vs restore Yet may these Sparks thus kindled with her fame Shine brighter and liue longer then some flame Here expectation vrgeth me to tell Her high perfections which the world knew well But they are farre beyond my skill t' vnfold They were poore vertues if they might be told But thou who faine would'st take a gen'rall view Of timely fruites which in this garden grew On all the vertues in mens actions looke Or reade their names writ in some morall booke And summe the number which thou there shalt find So many liu'd and triumph'd in her minde Nor dwelt these Graces in a house obscure But in a Palace faire which might allure The wretch who no respect to vertue bore To loue It for the garments which it wore So that in her the body and the soule Contended which should most adorne the whole O happy Soule for such a body meete How are the firme chaines of that vnion sweete Disseuer'd in the twinkling of an eye And we amaz'd dare aske no reason why But silent think that God is pleas'd to show That he hath workes whose ends we cannot know Let vs then cease to make a vaine request To learne why die the fairest why the best For all these things which mortals hold most deare Most slipp'ry are and yeeld lesse ioy then feare And being lifted high by mens desire Are more perspicuous markes for heau'nly fire And are laid prostrate with the first assault Because our loue makes their desert their fault Then Iustice vs to some amends should mooue For this our fruitelesse nay our hurtfull loue We in their Honour piles of stone erect With their deare Names and worthy prayses de●●●● But since those faile their glories we rehearse In better Marble euerlasting verse By which we gather from consuming houres Some parts of them though time the rest deuoures Then if the Muses can forbid to die As we their Priests suppose why may not I Although the least and hoarsest in the quire Cleare beames of blessed immortality inspire To keepe thy blest remembrance euer young Still to be freshly in all Ages sung Or if my worke in this vnable be Yet shall it euer liue vpheld by thee For thou shalt liue though Poems should decay Since Parents teach their Sonnes thy prayse to say And to posterity from hand to hand Conuay it with their blessing and their land Thy quiet rest from death this good deriues Instead of one it giues thee many liues While these lines last thy shadow dwelleth here Thy fame it selfe extendeth eu'ry where In Heau'n our hopes haue plac'd thy better part Thine Image liues in thy sad Husbands heart Who as when he enioy'd thee he was chiefe In loue and comfort so is he now in griefe Vpon the death of the most noble Lord Henry Earle of Southampton 1624. WHen now the life of great Southampton ends His fainting seruants and astonisht friends Stand like so many weeping Marble stones No passage left to vtter sighes or grones And must I first dissolue the bonds of griefe And straine forth words to giue the rest reliefe I will be bold my trembling voyce to trie That his deare Name may not in silence die The world must pardon if my song bee weake In such a case it is enough to speake My verses are not for the present age For what man liues or breathes on Englands stage That knew not braue Southampton in whose sight Most plac'd their day and in his absence night I striue that vnborne Children may conceiue Of what a Iewell angry Fates bereaue This mournefull Kingdome and when heauy woes Oppresse their hearts thinke ours as great as those In what estate shall I him first expresse In youth or age in ioy or in distresse When he was young no ornament of youth Was wanting in him acting that in truth Which Cyrus did in shadow and to men Appear'd like Peleus sonne from Chirons Den While through