Selected quad for the lemma: friend_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
friend_n	appear_v	great_a	time_n	915	5	3.1574	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A56853	Fons lachrymarum, or, A fountain of tears from whence doth flow Englands complaint, Jeremiah's lamentations paraphras'd, with divine meditations, and an elegy upon that son of valor Sir Charles Lucas / written by John Quarles.	Quarles, John, 1624-1665.; Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650.	1649 (1649)	Wing Q128; ESTC R235077	54,591	166

Throne Thus we Fond men expand our own infirmitie And thus our spend-thrift eyes profusely flow In lavish tears for him whose Soul we know Is far more happy then we can express Why do we then lament his happiness Then go sad Genius and advise all such That grieve to grieve because they grievd so much For him who Heav'n hath lately made a stranger To grief who rests above the reach of danger There let him rest in a most glorious sleep And if weak Nature urgeth us to weep Let 's weep nay weep indeed until our eyes Blinded with weeping weep for new supplies Let 's weep for sin let troops of sighs attend Our hasty tydes to their long journeys end Oh let 's deplore our most unhappy state Betimes for fear lest time-devouring fate Blocks up the narrow passage of our breath And so surprize us with a sudden Death And ah how soon the shadow-flying days Of man consumes how soon the troubled blaze Of his frail life expires and ah how soon He finds a night before he thinks 't is noon And how the pleasures of this sordid Earth Shadow his senses with a glimmering mirth And what 's this world 't is but a glass wherein Nothing appears but Heav'n-confronting sin Alas its painted beauty represents Nothing but folly crown'd with discontents There 's nothing here that truly may be stil'd A happiness here 's nothing but 's defil'd Alas alas in what a sad condition Is dust-composed man what expedition He daily makes to gain those things which gain'd Gnaw him like vipers thus are mortals stain'd And blur'd with vanities and thus they spend Their winged hours as if they could not end Fond Earths-consuming trash hath so combin'd Their hearts to worldly pleasures that they mind Nothing but profit basely gain'd which shall Mount them up here but after let them fall But where 's that man whose Soul contrives to be Imparadis'd and crown'd with dignitie With Hallelujahs Angels which controul The Family of Heav'n who still inroul In their sublimer thoughts how great how just Their Maker is before whose throne all must Appear with spotless Souls and fly from hence With downy wings of Dove-like innocence But stay my quill have I thus soon forgot My bosom friend as if I lov'd him not No no though he be dead he cannot dye Death cannot drive him from my memory Where he shall rest till time shall recommend My friend-bereaved Soul unto my friend For whilest he liv'd my sympathizing heart Was truly his and truly bore a part In what he suffer'd Ah but now he 's fled And left me here to say my friend is dead Poor soul and why poor soul rash tongue call back That fond abortive word how can he lack That dayly feeds upon delicious dyet In Heav'ns great store house and knows no disquiet This was an Error that my hasty quill Too rashly stept into against my will I hope 't is venial Reason may afford A pardon for a grief-relapsed word When passion rules the fancy men become Vainly Pragmatick or extreamly dumb But why rash death why didst thou send thy dart To take possession of his willing heart And gave no longer warning was there none Could please thy pallate only him alone 'T was quickly ended and as soon begun Believe me death 't was but unfriendly done But why do I fond man expostulate With thee that art an all-consuming fate Th' ast done a happy deed I dare not blame Thy power because I know from whence it came Shall I because he was my friend repine At his departure was he Heav'ns or mine I yield him Heav'ns not mine but yet I might Claim him as finite Heav'n as infinite He was but lent me for a time that I And others by his life might learn to dye Whilest he enjoy'd the fulness of his breath His life was a preparative for death His whole delight and study was to pry Into the bosom of Divinity From whence he suck'd such wholesom streams that those Which heard him gave a plaudit to his close His dayly practice was how to fulfil And prosecute his great Redeemers will Heav'n was his Meditation and he gave A reverent respect unto his grave Faith Hope and Charity did sweetly rest Within the Counsel-chamber of his brest And in a word the graces did agree To make one happy Soul and this was he As for his moral duties they were such That should I strive I could not speak too much His civil carriage towards all men might claim A perfect right to a beloved name His actions were so just that they may tell He liv'd uprightly and he dy'd as well His love his sweet society might call Ten thousand tears t' attend his funeral And to conclude in him all men might find A real heart and a most noble mind But now he 's gone his winged Soul 's aspir'd To Heav'ns high Palace where he sits attir'd With glorious immortality and sings Melodious Anthems to the King of Kings There there his melting Soul ravish'd to see The Sun-bright throne of splendent Majestie Adores his wel-pleas'd maker who makes known He 's pleas'd to crown and keep him for his own Oh there he rests free from the rubs of Earth Hugging no shadow but a real mirth Oh there 's no grief no sorrow found to vex His peaceful Soul no trouble to perplex Or blast his new-bred joys there is no woe No care no pain no misery no foe That dare presume to interrupt him all Must stand aloof and not appear nor shall Incroaching bold-fac'd grief nor pale-fac'd spight Dare interpose t' eclipse one blaze of light Oh there methink I hear him sweetly sing Grave where 's thy power Oh Death where 's thy sting Methinks I hear his warbling tongue declare How good his works how great his wonders are Methinks I see a great united Band Of glitt'ring Angels how prepar'd they stand To welcom him Methinks I hear them say March on blest Soul thou need'st not doubt the way Oh glorious sight In what triumphing state They guard his Soul to Heav'ns refulgent gate Where when he comes disrob'd of all his sin The gates fly open and his Soul flies in Methinks my ravish'd ears are fill'd and blest With such harmonious raptures and possest With such varieties that even I Were sin absolved would resolve to dye Methinks I hear within Heav'ns Ecchoing Grove The quavering Angels chant as if they strove T' excel themselves Methinks that every breath Is a sweet Invitation unto death But oh what rare or what profound invention Beatifi'd with a strong apprehension Can sound the depth of those delights which he Shall swim and bathe in to Eternitie There rest dear Soul having thus conquer'd fate Thy pleasures never shall expire their date There there the Alpha of thy joys shall never Know an Omega but be blest for ever With Alpha and Omega who shall crown Thy throne-approaching Soul with true renown Whilest we confused mortals here below Gulp up the dregs of sorrow and bestow Curses in stead of prayers upon each other And dayly labour to confuse and smother Our serene happiness and turn those joys Which Heav'n allow'd us to neglected toys And thus our deviating Souls befool Themselves and practise in the common School Of Errors Thus erroneously we bend Our flexive minds to folly and commend Non-sence for wisdom Reason being dead Repose my Muse discretion calls to bed FINIS

still fear the Rod Of his Correction yet appear I must Sure sure he 's merciful as well as just Cheer up dejected Soul and thou shalt see His mercy's greater then thy sins can be MEDITAT. 9. Can Heav'n forget himself or can he say That thing o're night he cannot do next day Can friends forget their children or deny Their dearest blood or can a mountain fly Heav'n says he 'l be a Father till the end Then he 's a fool that doubts so true a friend MEDITAT. 10. A friend indeed but how can I expect To purchase friendship by my own neglect For ah how often hath Heav'n pleas'd to say Ye that are heavy loaden come away And I will give you ease Alas but I Thought sin no burthen neither thought to dye MEDITAT. 11. But now I see the frailty of my mind I thought I was imprison'd when confin'd Only one hour to goodness nay that hour I thought a year until I had the power To free my self when freed I had forgot What goodness was as though I 'd heard it not MEDITAT. 12. And should I strive to reckon up my sins How can he make an end that still begins The sands upon the Seas nay and the hair Upon my head are Cyphers in compare Of my excessive sins yet Heav'n can call Me as he did the spend-thrift Prodigal MEDITAT. 13. I know my sins are great and do increase Within my Sion and disturb my Peace O what am I dear Heav'n I am thy creature My sins are great but yet thy mercy 's greater Pardon blest Heav'n forgive what I have done Thou art my Father own me as thy Son MEDITAT. 14. It is a happiness to scorn the mirth Of this confused transitory Earth And he who is ambitious to create A happiness must make the world his hate Then if self-love appear we know for what We love our selves in truly hating that MEDITAT. 15. Life is the lifes preparative and Death The deprivation of unconstant breath A well directed life shall always find Society in Death a glorious mind Shall have a glorious a celestial friend To guard his glory to a glorious end MEDITAT. 16. But can a mind enammel'd with the glory Of Heav'n have end or else is Death a story Death is the end of Life and yet we see Life is deriv'd from Deaths soveraigntie 'T is quickly known the Death of Sin must give The para'ned Soul a priviledg to live MEDITAT. 17. Heav'n is the seat of Happiness and Hell The place of fury where the Furies dwell Then mount my Soul upon the spreading wings Of lofty Faith fly towards the King of Kings Whilest here thou shalt inhabit learn to know That Heav'n's too high for them that fly too low MEDITAT. 18. I am but sordid earth that 's dayly plow'd With grief and care and sorrows hourly croud Into my weak dominions and remain Like greedy Tenants thirsting after gain My eyes are always open to behold New woes for I am form'd in sorrows mould MEDITAT. 19. I am a reeling Pinnace and I sail From Port to Port sometimes a humble gale Salutes my spreading sails and by and by The waves contemning my prosperity Spit in my face being hurried by their tydes They seem to crawl into my sweating sides MEDITAT. 20. I am a clouded day I promise rain Sometimes I 'm stormy and then clear again Sometimes the Sun of Pence begins t' appear But cannot shine in sorrows Hemisphere Saddest of thoughts needs must he be distrest That finds unconstant weather in his brest MEDITAT. 21. I am a vapor having not the power T' endure the fervor of one shining hour Vapors cannot withstand a mid-days heat Afflictions must be hot where sins are great 'T is not unlike a misty morning may Oft-times prove usher to a glorious day MEDITAT. 22. I am a trembling reed and every day The wind and I are subject to a fray I 'm bruis'd and shall be broken if some hand Sustain me not I shall forget to stand But stay my Soul and hear Jehovah speak I vow the bruised reed I will not break MEDITAT. 23. I am but earth corrupted with my deeds Which are but like unprofitable weeds My soil is rank and barren and it bears No grain at all no not so much as tears Wouldst thou increase my Soul I 'le teach thee how Sow but the seeds of Faith God speeds the plow MEDITAT. 24. Despair not when affliction plows the ground Doubt not increases if the seed be found Heav'n loves a fruitful harvest and his hand Is always active to manure the Land He takes the chiefest care the greatest pains He crowns the work 't is we that reap the gains MEDITAT. 25. Man's like a house whose outward beauty may Yield pleasure to the eye If we survey The inward rooms there we may find enough Of untrim'd natures sluttish houshold-stuff Wouldst thou be fair within O man and neat Turn but thy inside out thou 'lt be compleat MEDITAT. 26. Do greedy Ravens hunger do they cry For food and are they fed and must not I I beg I crave and yet am hungry still I pine I starve and Ravens have their fill I know great God I have offended thee Because thou seed'st the Ravens and not me MEDITAT. 27. Do Lillies flourish do they still remain Neatly adorn'd and yet they take no pain They neither spin nor card they take no care And yet they 're cloth'd and I poor I go bare I know great God I have offended thee Because thou cloth'st the Lillies and not me MEDITAT. 28. Why am I thus tormented with the Rod Of my afflictions Hath my angry God Forgot his creature Shall I never have A little ease but be affliction 's slave Forbear my grumbling Soul cheer up and be Mindful of him and he 'l remember thee MEDITAT. 29. And why does Heav'n afflict me but because He 'l make me know my self and learn his Laws Then why am I disquieted If he Intends my good shall I prove enemie Unto my self My Soul take care be still Vnless he turns that good into an ill MEDITAT. 30. Then learn my soul when Heav'n afflicts to know 'T is for thy sins he does it and to show The greatness of his mercy and to make Thee love affliction for the Afflictors sake Be wise and provident and thou shalt see 'T was good for David 't will be good for thee MEDITAT. 31. If thou wilt learn my Soul how to endure With patience thy afflictions be thou sure That when the hand of angry Heav'n shall smite Thou dost not grumble like the Israelite Strive thou for patience heav'n wil teach thee how To bear affliction with a cheerful brow MEDITAT. 32. What though the waves of thy afflictions rise And rage abundantly lift up thy eyes And cry to Heav'n let patience calm thy mind And know that purest gold must be refin'd And when affliction brings thee to the brink Of death remember Peter did not sink MEDITAT.

But for this Face the Work had clearely gone For old smooth Qvarles himself and not his Sonne Who sighing how KINGS fell and Subjects rose Scornes to mis-spend one single Teare in Prose This Book 's his shadowe Hee 's his Fathers Shade QVARLES is a Poet as well Borne as Made T M W. Marshall Fecit FONS LACHRYMARUM OR A Fountayne of TEARES London Printed for Nathaniel Brookes and sold at his shop at the Angel in Corn-hill Fons Lachrymarum OR A FOUNTAIN OF TEARS From whence doth flow Englands Complaint Jeremiah's Lamentations PARAPHRAS'D WITH Divine Meditations AND AN ELEGY Upon that Son of Valor Sir CHARLS LVCAS Written by JOHN QUARLES London Printed for Nathaniel Brooks at the Angel in Cornhill 1649. TO THE illustrious Prince CHARLS PRINCE of WALES Sir IF the Current of my affections force me against the Rocks of presumption J humbly crave the assistance of Your gracious pardon The extent of my ambition is to prostitute at Your Highnesses feet the first fruits of an Orchard which J planted in Flaunders during the time of my banishment and now have brought them into England to be press'd for growing in a strange Country J confess the fruit is green and sowre and cannot ripen till it feel the Sun-shine of Your Princely eye nor sweeten till Your approbation shall be pleased to afford them a liking and that liking honor them with a free acceptance There is nothing that can make me esteem my self unhappy but that the severity of these times will not permit me to tender Your Highness that service which my heart is ambitious to perform and my duty binds me to acknowledg J have nothing that J can stile my own but a fidelious heart which shall always pray for Your prosperity and that Your successes may like waves ride in one upon the back of another and that at last You may like the Sunne break through the Clouds of Opposition and once more shine in your proper Hemisphere Heaven season Your Royal Heart with the Principles of Wisdom and grant that You may not Hide Your Counsels in the Bosoms of them that honour You with their Lips when their Hearts are far from You. These are the serious and fervent Prayers of him that desires to live no longer then he is willing to devote himself to Your Highnesses Commands and is Your Highnesses most obliged Servant JOHN QUARLES TO THE READER Kind Reader I Here present to thy view a Fountain from which doth flow Complaints Lamentations and Meditations three Necessaries for these Times Never were Complaints more frequent then they are in this age of obduracy and oppression Nor Lamentations more requisite then in these Lachrymable Times Nor Meditations more commendable then in these days of uncertainty Reader I shall desire thee to pass by the errors of the Press which are now too late to correct Had not the perversness of these times debarred me from coming to the Press the Printers Mistakes had not been so numerous For my own part I have nothing to boast of but this that I am confident the judicious Reader will pardon the weakness of my endeavors and know that the tallest Cedars were but twigs at first Reader Farewel TO My dear Friend the AVTHOR THe Son begins to rise the Father 's set Heav'n took away one light and pleas'd to let Another rise Quarles thy Light 's divine And it shall teach Darkness it self to shine Each word revives thy Fathers name his art Is well imprinted in thy noble heart I 've read thy pleasing lines wherein I find The rare Endeavors of a modest mind Proceed as well as thou hast well begun That we may see the Father by the Son R.L. TO My much esteemed Friend the AVTHOR On his Book intituled Fons Lachrymarum THou prov'st Prophetick in thy doleful Muse Whilst it the Prophets mournful tears renews Yet e're thy tears be spent may England stand In her first glory rais'd by Charls his hand Then may each drop to add unto her grace Turn solid pearl and beautifie her face There whilest in native brightness fix'd they be Their radiant lustre shall reflect on thee Rich. Quiney Englands Complaint EXperience tells us those that are in pain Need neither Act nor Ord'naence to complain Griefs have their priviledg whose passions break All Laws and Losers claim a power to speak If passion be too rude Reader excuse Grief knows no manners sorrow needs no Muse But stay my hasty quill forbear I know Thou art too young too tender yet to go Without a guide a guide that may direct Thy staggering feet A guide that may protect Thy Infant years Do not too much endeavor A fall at first will make thee lame for ever Invoke the Nine and if they do deny To give thee ayd complain to Mercury Tell him thou art a babe and dost desire To warm thy genius by the Muses fire Where are Apollo's off-springs are they ty'd In sorrows chains e're since Mecaenas dy'd Or are their Helleconian waters spent Or do they stay t' expect a Complement I wonder what they mean to be thus slow In former times they 'd run they 'l now scarce go My heedless Muse dost thou not understand They 're all distracted and dispers'd the Land Only Melpomene who now appears Like Nioby a monument of tears Knowst thou not this rash Muse then how canst thou Implore a help from them that know not how To help themselves Nay Pegasus is made A poor Dragoon his friends are all betraid Though all distracted and thus routed be Yet helpless Muse there 's Heav'n to succour thee Then hear me Heaven O hear me now I sue Th' art my Apollo be Mecaenas too And great Conductor of my Soul inspire My frozen heart with thy celestial fire Light thou my Candle O then I shall see By thy own light how to discover thee Inflame my frozen senses with thy Spirit That I may learn to live and live t' inherit The glory of thy Kingdom and to rest Where joys are greater then can be exprest And so go on but stay rash quill and know What 't is to be engag'd before you go Too far Be careful these bad times unless Your rash adventure want a good success Be wary what you do these are no times To please fond fancies with lascivious Rhymes Be circumspect Let every word you write Be Truth and then let every word invite A tear each tear a sigh that every Eye That reads may melt into an Elegie And curs'd be that dull eye that will not lend A tear or two to see poor England spend Weeks months years in sighs in sobs in groans In tears in pray'rs and wilt not move the stones Vollies of tears discharged from her eyes Shake Heaven and Earth and penetrate the skies With sad cōplain● heav'n mourns at her condition And weeps down showrs of tears at her Peti●ion Then rouze ye Britains from your flattering sleep Hear Englands groans thus she begins to