Selected quad for the lemma: glory_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
glory_n	dear_a	fear_v	great_a	69	3	2.0799	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A04567	Parthenophil and Parthenophe Sonnettes, madrigals, elegies and odes. To the right noble and vertuous gentleman, M. William Percy Esquier, his deerest friend.	Barnes, Barnabe, 1569?-1609.	1593 (1593)	STC 1469; ESTC S118785	63,331	164

smell In paradise may make him dwell And sleepe a tentimes happie sleepe I dare not mell Else with good will Parthenophil Would to thy lippes one kisse assigne ODE 6. Oh fayre sweet gloue Deuine token Of her sweet loue Sweetely broken By wordes sweet loues she durst not moue These giftes her loue to me do proue Though neuer spoken On her fayre hand This gloue once was None in this land Did euer passe Her handes fayre white come loues here stand Let graces with yours match her hand Hyde hyde alas Graces would smile If you should matche Herr's yours beguile Her 's garlandes catche From all the Nymphes which blush the while To see there white out-match't a myle Which prayse did watche This gloue I kisse And for thy sake I will not misse But ballades make And euery shepheard shall know this Parthenophil in such grace is Muses awake For I will sing Thy matchelesse prayses And my pypes bring Which floodes amaises Wilde Satyres friskines shall out-fling The rockes shall this dayes glorie ring Whiles Nymphes bring dazes Some woodbynes beare Some damaske roses The muses were A bynding poases My goddesse gloue to herrye heere Great Pan commes in with flowers seare And crownes composes I note this day Once euery yeare An holy-day For her kept deare An hundreth swaines on pypes shall play And for the gloue maske in aray Withiolly cheare A gloue of gold I will bring in For which swaines bold Shall strife begin And he which loues can best vnfold And hath in songes his minde best told The gloue shall winne Nymphes shall resorte And they which flowers Shall decke a forte For parramours Which for this gloue shall there contende Vnpartiall Nymphes shall Iudgement ende And in those bowers Pronounce who best Deseru'd of all Then by the rest A coronall Of Roses freshly shall be drest And he with that rich gloue possest As principall ODE 7. When I did thinke to write of warre And martiall cheefden's of the field Diana did inforce to yeeld My muse to prayse the Westerne starre But Pallas did my purpose barre My muse as too weake it to weeld Elizaes prayses were too hye Diuinest wittes haue done their best And yet the most haue proued least Such was her sacred maiestie Loues pride grace to virginitie Oh could my muse in her prayse rest Venus directed me to write The prayse of peerlesse bewties wonder A theame more fit for voyce of thunder Parthenophe from whose eyes bright Ten thousand graces dar'e my might And will'd me fiue degrees write vnder But yet her fancie wrought so much That my muse did her prayse aduenter Wherein of yore it durst not enter And now her bewtie giues that tuche Vnto my muse in number suche Which makes me more and more repent her ODE 8. In a shadie groue of mirtle Where byrdes musicall resorted With Floraes painted flowers fertle Which men with sight and sent comforted Whilst turtles equally disported Where each Nymphe loases Bunches of poases Which into Chapplettes sweet they sorted There seated in that louely shade Which Laya bewtifull there sate A gentle shepheard which had made Gainst euening twilight somewhat late An arbour built in Syluane state Where in exchaunge Their eyes did raunge Giuing each other the check-mate He said sweet comfort of my life Come and embrace Parthenophil Mette we sade she to fall at strife I will be gone I that I will I lou'd your long why do so still I can not chuse If you refuse But shall my selfe with sorrow kill With that he sight and would haue kist And vew'de her with a fearefull smile She turn'd and said your ame mist With sighes redoubled the meanewhile The shepheard sate but did compile Greene knotted rushings Then roundlayes sings And pleasaunt doth twilight beguile At length he somewhat nearer prest And with a glaunce the Nymphe deceauing He kist her she said be at rest Willing displeas'd in the receauing Thence from his purpose neuer leauing He prest her further She would cry murther But somewhat was her breathe bereauing At length he doth possesse her whoale Her lippes and all he would desier And would haue breath'd in her his soale If that his soale he could enspyer Eft that chaunc'd which he did requier A liue soule possest Her matrone brest Then waking I found sleepe a lyer ODE 9. Behold out-walking in these valleyes Where faire Parthenophe doth treade How ioysome Flora with her dallyes And at her steppes sweet flowers bredde Narcissus yellow And Amaranthus euerredde Which all her foote-steppes ouer spredde With Hyacynthe that findes no fellow Behold within that shadie thicke Where my Parthenophe doth walke Her bewtie makes trees mouing quicke Which of her grace in murmur talke The poplar trees shed teares The blossom'd Hauthorne white as chalke And Aspine trembling on his stalke The tree which sweet 〈◊〉 beares The barren Hebene coalie blacke Greene Iuy with his straunge embraces Daphne which scornes Ioues thunder-cracke Sweet Cypresse set in sundry places And singing Atis telles Vnto the rest my mistresse graces From them the winde her glorie chases Throughout the West where it excelles ODE 10. Why doth heauen beare a Sunne To giue the world an heate Why there haue starres a seate On earth when all is donne Parthenophes bright Sunne Doth giue a greater heate And in her heauen there bee Such faire bright blazing starres Which still make open warres With those in heauens degree These starres farre brighter bee Then brightest of heauens starres Why doth earth bring forth Roses Violettes or Lillyes Or bright Daffadylies In her cleare cheekes she cloases Sweet Damaske Roses In her necke white Lillyes Violettes in her vaynes Why do men sacrifice Incense to dieties Her breathe more fauour gaines And please the heauenly vaynes More then rich sacrifice ODE 11. Louely Maya Hermes mother Of faire Flora much befrended To whom this sweet month is commēded This month more sweet then any other By thy sweet souerantie defended Dazes Couslippes and Primroses Fragrant Violettes and sweet Mynthe Match'te with purple Hyacynthe Of these each where Nymphes make trimme poses Praysing their mother Bericynthe Behold an heard of Iollie swaines Go flocking vp and downe the meade A troupe of louely Nymphes do treade And dearnely dauncing on you plaines Each doth in course her hornepype lead Before the groomes playes Peers the pyper The bring in Hauthorne and sweet brere And damaske-roses they would beare But them they leaue till they be riper The rest round morisses daunce there With frisking gamboldes and such glee Vnto the louely Nymphes they hast Who there in decent order plac'de Expect who shall Queene Flora bee And with the may crowne cheefly grac'de The shepheardes poopen in their pype One leades his wenche a country rounde Another sittes vpon the grounde And doth his beard from driuell wipe Because he would be handsome found To see the frisking and scouping To heare the herdgroomes wowing speeches Whiles one to daunce his gyrle beseeches The lead-heeld

a sunnie smile From vnderneath a cloudie frowne of hate Plaine loue with counterfeasance to beguile Which at thy windowes for some grace awate If thou thine eares can open to thy prayse And them with that report delighted cherish And shut them when the passionate assayes To pleade for pittie then about to perish If thou canst cherish graces in thy cheeke For men to wonder at which thee behold And they finde furies when thine hart they see●…e And yet proue such as are extreamely cold Now as I finde no thought to mans conceipt Then must I sweare to woman 's no deceit ELEGIE XIX Deare sorrow giue me leaue to breathe a while A little leaue to take a longer breath Whose easie passage still thou doest beguile Choak'd vp with sighes proclamers of my death Oh let the teares of euer-thirstie eyes Returne backe to the channells of mine hart They to my sight be vowed enemies And made a trayterous league not to depart Vnder the colour of tormenting those Which were first causers of mine harts distresse And closely with mine hart by guile did close Through blinding them to make my torment lesse Oh let those fearefull thoughtes which still oppresse me Turne to the dungeon of my troubled brayne Dispaire t' accompanie which doth possesse me And with his venome poisoneth euery vayne Ouglie dispaire who with blacke force assaultes Me vanquisht with conceipt and makes me dwell With horrour match't in melancholies vaultes Where I lye burning in my fancies hell Oh thou drad ruler of my sorrowes rage Of thee and none but thee I begge remorse VVith thy sweet breath thou may my sighes asswage And make my sorrowes fountaines stay their course And banish blacke dispaire then helpe me now Or know death can do this as well as thou ELEGIE XX. Oh deare vexation of my troubled soule My life with greefe when wilt thou consummate The deare remembrance of my passing soule Mine hart with some restes hope doth animate How many haue those conquering eyes subdued How many vanquish't captiues to thine hart Hard-iron harted Captaines when they vew'de VVere drawne till they were wounded with thy dart Oh when I there heard bodies haue beheld Their martiall stomaches and oft wounded face Which bitter tumultes and garboyles foretell'd In which it seem'd they founde no cowardes place Then I recall'd how farre loues power exceedes Aboue the bloudie menace of rough warre Where euery wounded hart close inward bleedes And soddeine perc'd with twinckling of a starre Then when such iron harted Captaines bee To thine harts bulwarke forced for to trye Which way to winne that fort by batterye And how all conquerours their conquer'd lye Me thinkes thine hart or else thine eyes be made Because they can such iron obiectes force Of hardest Adamante that men which lade Continuall siege be thrall'd without remorse Thine hart of Adamant because it takes The hardest harts drawne prisoners vnto t●…e Thine eye because it wonded many makes Yet no transpercing beames can pearce those eyne Thine hart of Adamant which none can wound Thine eye of Adamant vnperced found ELEGIE XXI Happie depart with speede then me more fortunate euer Poore letter go thy wayes vnto my sweet Ladyes hands She shall looke on thee and then with her bewtifull eyes blesse Smiling eyes perhaps thee to delight with a glaunce She shall cast on a lyne if a lyne there pleaseth her humour But if a lyne displease then shall apeare in a frowne How much she dislikes thy loues and saucie salutings O my lifes sweet light know that a frowne of thine eye Can transpearce to my soule more swift then a Parthian arrow And more deepely wound then any launce or a speare But thy sweet smiles can procure such contrary mot'ions Which can alone that heale wounded afore by thine eyes Like to the launces rust which heal'de whome warlike Achilles With right hand valiant doughtilye wounded afore Not vnlike to the men whose greefe the Scorpion helpeth Whom he before did sting ready to dye thorow paine Thou that bewtie procures to be thy chastities hand mayde With vertues regiment glorious ordred alone Thou that those smooth browes like plates of Iuory plained When any looke on them canst make apeare like a cloude Thou that those cleare eyes whose light surpasseth a stars light Canst make loues flames shoote with cruel anger abroad Thou that those fayre cheekes when a man thy bewtie beholdeth Deepely to wound canst make sweetely to blush like a rose Make thy browes to delight mine hart smooth shadow thy cleare eyes Whose smile is to my soule like to the sunne frō a cloude When he shines to the world in most pride after a tempest And with his heate prouokes all the delightes of the ground Graunt me sweet Lady this this graunt kinde pittie requesteth Teares and sighes make asuite pittie me pittie my suite Thus to thy sweet graces will I leaue my drcerye bewaylings And to thy gracious hart I recomend my lamentes Thrise blessed go thy way to my deare go thrise speedie letter And for me kisse them since I may not kisse her hands CANZON 1. All bewties farre perfections rest in thee And sweetest grace of graces Deckes thy face boue faces All vertue takes her glorie from thy minde The muses in thy wittes haue their places And in thy thoughtes all mercies bee Thine hart from all hardnesse free An holy place in thy thoughtes holinesse doth finde In fauorable speech kinde A sacred tongue and eloquent Action sweet and excellent Musique it selfe in ioyntes of her fayre fingers is She chauntresse of singers is Her plighted faith is firme and permanent O now now helpe wilt thou take some compassion She thinkes I flatter writing on this fashion Thy bewtie past with misorder stayned is In thee no graces finde rest In thoe who sought it saw lest And all thy thoughtes be vayne and vicious Thy braynes with heauie dullnesse are opprest Of thee no mercy gayned is Thine hart hard and fayned is Aminde prophane and of the worst suspicious In speech not delicious Atoung ty'de which cannot vtter Gesture lame like wordes which stutter Thy hands and minde vnap'te in musique to reioyce For songes vnfitte an hoarse voyce Thy faith vnconstant whatsoeuer thou mutter Be gracious no she thinckes my wordes be bitter Through my misfortunes they for my selfe be fitter O'h how long how long shall I be distrest How long in vayne shall I moane How long in payne shall I groane How long shall I bathe in continuall teares How long shall I sit sad and sigh alone How long shall feare discomfort giue How long shall hopes let me liue How long shall I lye bounde in dispaires and feares VVith sorrow still my hart weares my sundry fancies subdue me Thine eyes kill me when they vew me VVhen thou speakes with my soule thy voyce musique maketh And soules from silence waketh Thy browes smiles quicken me whose frownes slew me Then fayre sweet behold see me poore wretch in torment Thou