Selected quad for the lemma: ground_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
ground_n	death_n	young_a	youth_n	25	3	7.7418	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A33611	A chain of golden poems embellished with wit, mirth, and eloquence : together with two most excellent comedies, (viz.) The obstinate lady, and Trappolin suppos'd a prince / written by Sr Aston Cokayn.; Chain of golden poems	Cokain, Aston, Sir, 1608-1684.; Cokain, Aston, Sir, 1608-1684. Obstinate lady.; Cokain, Aston, Sir, 1608-1684. Trappolin creduto principe.	1658 (1658)	Wing C4894; ESTC R20860	211,316	545

agree With tears on earth T is an Antipathie But 't is unnatural we should be glad And 't is Impiety we should be sad We must not grieve therefore nor yet rejoyce But fix us in the mean and shew us wise Be glad that we believe her soul is crown'd With endless Glory in Heavens ample Round Onely lament that we have lost our guide And wanting her are apt to wander wide We need not bid thee sleep secure that know That God himself rock'd thee asleep below Sweet Sainted Maid thou meritest the Pen Of Cherubims to shew thee unto men And dost deserve a bench of Poets grave To study and to write thine Epitaph Which in Mosaick work with diamonds bright Should be drawn out and read by it's own light A Titian or a Bonarota should Cast thee a Statue of pure Ophir Gold Had'st thou thy due the eager earth would sure Anatomize one India for Ore And precious stones a Pyramid to reare Lasting and great as the Egyptian were To thy eternal memorie and from Th e eastern-lands bring all the plenteous sum Of spices and perfumes and on the height Of that rich monument burn them day and night But 't is a thing impossibly too hard For men on earth to give thee thy reward Thy God whose power and love is infinite Thee hath and doth and ever will requite Among the Chorus of Heavens Virgins pure To sing Divinest Anthems evermore The homely verses I have writ she oft Hath smil'd upon approv'd them smooth and soft And if my pen hath power to give a fame Dear Isabella here shall live thy Name Had I the deathless Homer's brain and could Sing lofty numbers like to Maro Old A wit to match Sulmonean Ovid I Had writ a Poem not an Elegie T is known and I confess this is beneath Her Life and her expressions at her death Her resurrection plain will shew how well She led her life and bad the World Farewel 3. On the death of Henry Lord Hastings Son to the right Honourable Ferdinand Earl of Huntingdon c. KNow all to whom these few sad lines shall come This melancholy Epicedium The young Lord Hastings death occasion'd it Amidst a ●●orm of Lamentations writ Tempests of sighes and grones and flowing eyes Whose yielding balls dissolve to Deluges And mournful Numbers that with dreadful sound Waite his bemoned body to the ground Are all and the last duties we can pay The Noble Spirit that is fled away T is gone alas t is gone though it did leave A body rich in all Nature could give Superiour in beauty to the youth That won the Spartan Queen to forfeit truth Break wedlocks strictest bonds and be his wife Environed with tumults all her Life His years were in the balmie Spring of Age Adorn'd with blossomes ripe for marriage And but mature His sweet conditions known To be so good they could be none but 's own Our English Nation was enamour'd more On his full worth then Rome was heretofore Of great V●●pa●●an's Jew-subduing Heire The love and the Delight of mankind here After a large survey of Histories Our Criticks curious in honour wise In paralleling generous Souls will finde This youthful Lord did bear as brave a minde His few but well spent years had master'd all The liberal Arts And his sweet tongue could fall Into the ancient Dialects dispence Sacred Judeas amplest eloquence The La●ine Idiome elegantly true And Greek as rich as Athens ever knew Italy France and Spain did all confess Him perfect in their modern Languages At his Nativity what angry Star Malignant influences slung so far What Caput Algolls and what dire Aspects Occasioned so tragical effects As soon as death this fatal blow had given I fancy mighty Clarence sigh'd in Heaven And till this glorious Soul arrived there Recover'd not from his Amaze and fear Had this befal'n in ancient credulous times He had been deifi'd by Poets rimes That Age enamour'd of his Graces soon Majestick Fanes in adoration Would have rays'd to his memory and there On golden Altars year succeeding year Burnt holy incense and Sabaean Gums That Curles of vapour from those Hecatombs Sould reach his Soul in Heaven but we must pay No such Oblations in our purer way A nobler Service we him owe then that His fair example ever t'emulate With the Advantage of our double years Le ts imitate him and through all Affairs And all Encounters of our Lives intend To live like him and make as good an end To aim at brave things is an evident signe In Spirits that to honour they incline And though they do come short in the Contest T is full of glory to have done one's best You mournful Parents whom the Fates compel To bear the Loss of this great miracle This wonder of our Times amidst a sigh Surrounded with your thick'st Calamity Reflect on joy think what an happiness Though humane Nature oft conceits it less It was to have a Son of so much worth He was too good to grace the wretched earth As silver Trent through our North Countries glides Adorn'd with Swans crown'd with flowry sides And rushing into mightier Humbers Waves Augments the Regal Aestuarium's Braves So he after a life of eighteen years Well mannaged Example to our Peeres In 's early youth encountring sullen Fate Orecome became a Trophey to his State Didst thou sleep Hymen or art lately grown T' affect the Subterranean Region Enamour'd on bleard Libentina's eyes Hoarse-howling Dirges and the baleful Cries Of Inauspicious voices and above Thy Star-like torch with horrid tombs in love Thou art or surely hadst oppos'd this high Affront of death against thy Deity Nor wrong'd an excellent Virgin who had given Her heart to him who hath his Soul to Heaven Whose Beauties thou hast clouded and whose eyes Drowned in tears at these sad Exequies The fam'd Heroes of the golden Age Those Demigods whose vertues did asswage And calm the furies of the wildest mindes That were grown salvage even against their kinds Might from their Constellations have look'd down And by this young Lord seen themselves out-gon Farewel Admired Spirit that art free From this strict Prison of Mortalitie Ashby proud of the honour to enshrine The beauteous Body whence the Soul Divine Did lately part be careful of thy trust That no profane hand wrong that hallow'd Dust The Costly Marble needes no friend t'engrave Upon it any doleful Epitaph No good Man's tongue that Office will decline Whil'st years succeeding reach the end of time 4. On the death of my dear Cousin Germane Mrs. Olive Cotton who deceased at Berisford the 38th year of her Age and lyes buried at Bently by Ashbourne c. AMongst the many that shall celebrate With sighes and tears this excellent womans Fate And with the many that shall fix a verse Sacred unto her Fame upon her Herse World pardon me my boldness that intrude These few poor lines upon thy Multitude They need not read them I have

Satyre I have writ A remedy for those 'i th amorous fit Love Elegies and Funeral Elegies Letters of things of divers qualities Encomiastick Lines to works of some A Masque and an Epithalamium Two Books of Epigrams All which I mean Shall in this volume come upon the Scene Some divine Poems which when first I came To Cambridge I writ there I need not name Of Dianea neither my Translation Omitted here as of another fashion For heavens sake name no more you say I cloy you I do obey you Therefore friend God b'wy you 125. Of this Book This little Work I 've done which time may wast Or Ioves displeasure into darkness cast But I will hope the best and that it may Last after I am ashes many a day FINIS EPIGRAMS The third Book 1. To the Gentry of Darbyshire GEntlemen and my Countrey men pray look With courteous eyes upon this trivial Book For I present it to you that it may Show my respects to you another day Why to the Lords I write not you enquire I should not be so bold though I desire But to avoid prolixity of words Gentlemen they are though you are not Lords 2. To the Readers Two Books of Epigrams I 've writ before Yet Gentle Readers I present you more Behold the third here offer'd you but what It will prove good or bad I know not yet May it likewise obtain your candor els Henceforth for me write Epigrams your selves 3. To the Right Honourable Philip Earl of Chesterfield Baron of Shelford c. Philip the second Earl of Chesterfield I a request have and I hope you 'l yield Yet I in modesty long time have stuck From making it And 't is but for a Buck Bestow one on me and on this good reason I will not ask again till the next season 4. An Epitaph on Elizabeth the Lady Reppington who deceased at Ammington about the 50. year of of her age and lies buried at Tamworth Here underneath this Monumental Stone Elizabeth the Lady Reppington Doth lye inter'd And therefore whosoere Thou art that passest by awhile forbear Thy hast and read and weep for he 's unjust Unto the merits of her precious dust That doth not drop his Tears in showers for she Is worthy of eternal Memory Worthy of storms of sighes Thunder of Grones To mourn her loss with due afflictions The sea-bright family that gave her birth Hath gain'd thereby a glory on the earth Happy her husband in so good a wife Happy her children to receive a life From such a Magazine of worthes as she A fair example for Posterity To name her virtues is to name them all She was their Centre she their pure White-hall Their Court their Palace where heaven did rejoyce To see such Cherubims without a vice She was their Paradise and her bright soul The Diety that did command the whole But O! there is another heaven else sure Her soul had never left a place so pure Earth is not the reward for virtue Look Upwards that 's towards her she is a Book A Directory for thy life which read And practiced thou wilt be so prais'd when dead An Epitaph on my honoured Cousin Mr. John Reppington who deceased at Ammington about the 25 year of his age and lies buried at Tamworth Here lies Iohn Reppington that came to be By Edwards death Heir of his Family As t' him his elder brother did give room So he t' his younger witness by this tomb He a few weeks after his mother di'd And of the same new term'd disease beside So he a most obsequious son was found That waited on his mother under ground He was good natur'd bore an honest mind Belov'd by all men and to all men kind And had no foe but death who too severe Hath cast an Heir so young and hopeful here 6. To Mr. Charles Hutchinson my Cousin German Cousin I long to see you married well And long at Rawslison to see you dwell Then I should oft wait on you make some stay It being from Pooly t' Ashburn in the way So I should make your house mine Inne what tho W' are friends and neer a kin Pray be mine so 7. To Mr. Francis Fitzherbert of Lincolnes Inne my kinsman To love and not to love it is all one If you do let the Fair belov'd alone And to love once unless you do love ever Is a slight toy and was an earnest never Therefore to shew you true affection have Your Mistrisse wed and love her to the grave 8. To Mr. Will. Stanhope the younger my Cousin German Why do you live so long a Batchelor Is it cause you the femall sex abhor Or do you fear women are troublesome And therefore loth into their yoke to come If such opinions do your minde enthrall Marry a wife and she 'l confute them all 9. Of Quintilla Quintilla talkes too much and why is it Because Quintilla hath but little wit And at each thing she speakes she doth laugh after A Fool is known by an excess of laughter 10. To my mother Mrs Anne Cokain Let none our Ashbourn discommend henceforth Your Gardens shew it is a place of worth What delicate Sparagus you have growing there And in how great abundance every year What gallant Apricocks and Peaches brave And what delicious Nectorins you have What Mellons that grow ripe without those Glasses That are laid over them in other Places What Grapes you there have growing and what wine Pleasant to tast you made last vintage time Plant Vines when of Grapes you have got store Make wine enough and I will ask no more Then Mr. Bancroft in high lines shall tell The world your cellar 's Aganippe's Well The rest are to be made Song 1. 1. I Saw a proud fair Lass to day Whose beauties equal those of May She is as sweet as flowers new blown Much pity she should lie alone What would you give to bless your sight With such an object of delight 2. I wondred at her delicate hair Mulcibers Net so soft and rare T' entangle even the Gods above And fill their hearts with gentle love What would you give c. 3. I gaz'd upon her beauteous eyes Loves exquisitest Palaces VVherein as many Cupids be As there are men that dare them see VVhat would you give c. 4. Het stately forehead was so fair That Iris Arch is no compare Match'd onely in lame Vulcans bride Unequal'd in the world beside What c. 5. Her sweetest Mouth doth far excell The Delphian certain Oracle T is Loves best musick all ears charmer All hearts enthraller and blouds warmer What c. 6. Her pretty hands I did espy Fitter for kisses then an eye They were so small I cannot look For such again but in a book What c. 7. Her bosome Beauties sweet champain The Poets Elizium I do fain Not white with snow but a selecter Colour all overstrow'd with Nectar What c. 8. The two brave Thrones