Selected quad for the lemma: heart_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
heart_n	let_v	love_n	zone_n	24	3	12.4272	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A64333	The temple of death a poem / written by the Marquess of Normanby ...; Temple de la mort. English	Habert, Philippe, 1605-1637.; Buckingham, John Sheffield, Duke of, 1648-1720 or 21.; Horace. Ars poetica. English.; Howard, Robert, Sir, 1626-1698. Duel of the stags.; Roscommon, Wentworth Dillon, Earl of, 1633?-1685. Horace, of the Art of poetry.	1695 (1695)	Wing T663; ESTC R35214	58,282	289

never strove All flames in matter where too fast They do not seize the longer last Then blame not mine for moving slow Since all things durable are so The Oak that 's for three hundred Years Design'd in growing one out-wears Whilst Flowers for a Season made Quickly spring up and quickly fade TO CHLORIS By the same Author CHloris you live ador'd by all And yet on none your Favours fall A stranger Mistress ne'er was known You pay us all in Paying none We him of Avarice accuse Who what he has does fear to use But what Disease of Mind shall I Call this thy hated Penury Thou wilt not give out of a store Which no Profuseness can make poor Misers when Dead may make amends And in their Wills enrich their Friends But when thou Dy'st thy Treasure dies And thou canst leave no Legacies What madness is it then to spare When we want power to make an Heir Live Chloris then at the full rate Of thy great Beauty and since Fate To Love and Youth is so severe Enjoy'm freely while th' art here Some caution yet I de have thee use Whene're thou dost a Servant chuse We are not all for Lovers fit No more than Arms or Arts of Wit For Wisdom some respected are Some we see po'wrful at the Bar Some for Preferment waste their time And the steep Hill of Honour climb Others of Love their business make In Love their whole Diversion take Take one of those for in one Breast Two Passions live but ill at rest And even of them I 'd have thee fly All that take flame at every Eye All those that light and faithless are All that dare more than think thee fair Take one of Love who nothing says And yet whom every word betrays Love in the Cradle pretty shews And when 't can speak unruly grows THE PICTURE In Imitation of ANACREON'S BATHILLUS By the Earl of Mulgrave THou Flatterer of all the Fair Come with all your skill and care Draw me such a Shape and Face As your Flatt'ry would disgrace Wish not that she would appear 'T is well for you She is not here Scarce can you with safety see All her Charms describ'd by me Who alas have found too well What a power does in them dwell I alas the danger know I alas have felt the Blow Mourn as lost my former Days That did not sing of Celia's praise And those few that are behind I shall blest or wretched find Only just as she is kind With her tempting Eyes begin Eyes that might draw Angels in To a second sweeter sin Oh those wanton rowling Eyes At each glance a Lover dies Make them bright yet make them willing Let them look both kind and killing Next draw her Forehead then her Nose And Lips just opening which disclose Teeth so white and Breath so sweet So much Beauty so much Wit To our very Soul they strike All our Senses pleas'd alike But so pure a white and red Never never can be said What are words in such a case What is paint to such a Face How should either Art avail us Fancy here it self will fail us In her Looks and in her Meen Such a graceful Air is seen That if you with all your Art Can but reach the smallest part Next to her the Matchless She We shall wonder most at Thee Then her Neck and Breasts and Hair And her but my Charming Fair Does in a thousand things excel Which I must not dare not tell How go on then Oh I see A Lovely Venus drawn by Thee Oh how fair she does appear Touch it only here and there Make her yet seem more Divine Your Venus then may look like mine Whose bright form if once you saw You by her would Venus draw TO A Coquet Beauty By the same Author FRom Wars and Plagues come no such harms As from a Nymph so full of Charms So much Sweetness in her Face In her Motions such a Grace In her kind inviting Eyes Such a soft Enchantment lies That we please our selves too soon And are with vain hopes undone After all her softness we Are but Slaves while she is free Free alas from all desire Except to set the World on fire Thou fair Dissembler dost but thus Deceive thy self as well as us Like Ambitious Monarchs thou Would'st rather force Mankind to bow And venture o'er the World to roam Than govern with content at home But trust me Celia trust me when Apollo's self inspires my Pen One hour of Love's Delights out-weighs Whole Years of Universal Praise And one Adorer kindly used Is of more use than Crowds refused For what does Youth and Beauty serve Why more than all your Sex deserve Why such soft alluring Arts To charm our Eyes and melt our Hearts By our loss you nothing gain Unless you love you please in vain SONG By the same Author FRom all Uneasie Passions Free Revenge Ambition Jealousie Contented I had been too blest If Love and You would let me Rest. Yet that Dull Life I now Despise Safe from your Eyes I fear'd no Griefs but Oh I found no Joys Amidst a thousand soft Desires Which Beauty moves and Love inspires I feel such pangs of Jealous Fear No heart so kind as mine can bear Yet I 'll defie the worst of harms Such are those Charms 'T is worth a Life to Die within your Arms. The Parting of Hector with his Princess Andromache and only Son Astyanax when he went upon his last Expedition in which he was Slain by Achilles Done out of the Greek of Homer Iliad 6. By Knightly Chetwood HEctor though warn'd by an approaching Cry That to Troy Walls the Conqu'ring Greeks drew nigh T' his Princess one short Visit pays in haste Some Daemon told him this would be his last Her swiftly passing through the spacious Streets He nor at home nor in the Circle meets Nor at Minerva's where the Beauteous Train Made Prayers and Vows to angry Powers in vain She half distracted with the loud Alarms The Prince was carry'd in his Nurse's Arms Runs to a Turret whose commanding height Presented all the Battel to her sight Advancing Grecians and the Trojans flight Here Hector finds her with a Lover's Pace She speeds and breathless sinks in his Embrace The Nurse came after with her Princely care As Hesperus fresh promising and fair Hector in little with paternal Joy He blest in silent Smiles the Lovely Boy The Princess at his sight compos'd again Pressing his Hand do's gently thus complain My Dearest Lord believe a careful Wife You are too lavish of your precious Life You formost into every danger run Of me regardless and your little Son Shortly the Greeks what none can singly do Will compass pointing all the War at you But before that day comes Heavens may I have The mournful Privilege of an early Grave For I of your dear Company bereft Have no Reserve no second Comfort left My Father who did in Cilicia Reign By fierce

will seign Though I break my Heart disdain But lest I too unkind appear For ev'ry Frown I 'll shed a Tear And if in vain I court thy Love Let mine at least thy pity move Ah while I scorn vouchsafe to woo Methinks you may dissemble too Streph. Ah Phillis that you wou'd contrive A way to keep my Love alive But all your other Charms must fail When Kindness ceases to prevail Alas No less than you I grieve My dying flame has no reprieve For I can never hope to find Shou'd all the Nymphs I Court be kind One Beauty able to renew Those Pleasures I enjoy in you When Love and Youth did both conspire To fill our Breasts and Veins with fire 'T is true some other Nymph may gain That Heart which merits your Disdain But second Love has still allay The Joys grow aged and decay Then blame me not for losing more Than Love and Beauty can restore And let this truth thy comfort prove I wou'd but can no longer Love THE DIVIDED HEART By the same Author AH Celia that I were but sure Thy Love like mine cou'd still endure That Time and Absence which destroy The Cares of Lovers and their Joy Cou'd never rob me of that part Which you have giv'n me of your Heart Others unenvy'd might possess Whole Hearts and boast that Happiness 'T was Nobler Fortune to divide The Roman Empire in her Pride Than on some low and barb'rous Throne Obscurely plac'd to rule alone Love only from thy Heart exacts The several Debts thy Face contracts And by that new and juster way Secures thy Empire and his sway Fav'ring but one he might compel The hopeless Lover to rebel But shou'd he other Hearts thus share That in the whole so worthless are Shou'd into several Squadrons draw That strength which kept entire cou'd awe Men would his scatter'd Powers deride And conqu'ring Him those spoils divide To Mr. J. N. on his Translations out of French and Italian By the same Author WHile others toil our Country to supply With what we need only for Luxury Spices and Silk in the rich East provide To glut our Avarice and feed our Pride You Foreign Learning prosperously transmit To raise our Virtue and provoke our Wit Such brave Designs your Gen'rous Soul inflame To be a bold Adventurer for Fame How much oblig'd are Italy and France While with your Voice their Musick you advance Your growing Fame with Envy can oppose Who sing with no less Art than they Compose In these Attempts so few have had success Their Beauties suffer in our English Dress By Artless Hands spoil'd of their Native Ayr They seldom pass from moderately fair As if you meant these Injuries to atone You give them Charms more Conqu'ring than their own Not like the dull laborious Flatterer With secret Art those Graces you confer The skilful Painters with slight stroaks impart That subtil Beauty which affects the Heart There are who publickly profess they hate Translations and yet all they Write Translate So proud they scorn to drive a Lawful Trade Yet by their Wants are shameless Pirates made These you incense while you their Thefts reveal Or else prevent in what they meant to steal From all besides you are secure of praise But you so high our Expectation raise A gen'ral Discontent we shall declare If such a Workman only should repair You to the Dead your Piety have shewn Adorn'd their Monuments now build your own Drawn in the East we in your Lines may trace That Genius which of old inspir'd the place The banish'd Muses back to Greece you bring Where their best Airs you so Divinely sing The World must own they are by you restor'd To sacred shades where they were first ador'd Virtue 's Urania By the same Author HOpeless I languish out my Days Struck with Vrania's Conqu'ring Eyes The Wretch at whom she darts these rays Must feel the Wound until he dies Though endless be her Cruelty Calling her Beauties to my Mind I bow beneath her Tyranny And dare not murmur she 's unkind Reason this tameness does upbraid Proff'ring to arm in my defence But when I call her to my aid She 's more a Traytor than my sense No sooner I the War declare But strait her succour she denies And joyning Forces with the Fair Confirms the Conquest of her Eyes SYLVIA By the same Author THe Nymph that undoes me is Fair and Unkind No less than a Wonder by Nature design'd She 's the Grief of my Heart the Joy of my Eye And the cause of a Flame that never can die Her Mouth from whence Wit still obligingly flows Has the Beautiful Blush and the Smell of the Rose Love and Destiny both attend on her Will She wounds with a Look with a Frown she can kill The Desperate Lover can hope no redress Where Beauty and Rigour are both in excess In Sylvia they meet so unhappy am I Who sees her must Love and who Loves her must die TO CELIA By Sir Charles Sedley AS in those Nations where they yet adore Marble and Cedar and their aid implore 'T is not the Workman nor the precious Wood But 't is the Worshipper that makes the God So cruel Fair tho Heaven has giv'n thee all We Mortals Virtue or can Beauty call 'T is we that give the Thunder to your Frowns Darts to your Eyes and to our selves the Wounds Without our Love which proudly you deride Vain were your Beauty and more vain your Pride All envy'd Beings that the World can shew Still to some meaner thing their greatness owe. Subjects make Kings and we the numerous Train Of Humble Lovers Constitute thy Reign This difference only Beauties Realm may boast Where most it favours it enslaves the most And they to whom it is indulgent found Are ever in the rudest Fetters bound What Tyrant yet but thee was ever known Cruel to those that serv'd to make him one Valour 's a Vice if not with Honour joyn'd And Beauty a Disease when 't is not kind THE SUBMISSION By the same Author AH Pardon Madam if I ever thought Your smallest Favours could too dear be bought And the just greatness of your Servant's Flame I did the poorness of their Spirits Name Calling their due attendance Slavery Your power of Life and Death flat Tyranny Since now I yield and do confess there is No way too hard that leads to such a bliss So when Hippomanes beheld the Race Where Loss was Death and Conquest but a Face He stood amazed at the fatal strife Wondring that Love shou'd dearer be than Life But when he saw the Prize no longer staid But through those very dangers sought the Maid And won her too O may his Conquest prove A happy Omen to my purer Love Which if the honour of all Victory In the resistance of the Vanquisht lie Though it may be the least regarded Prize Is not the smallest Trophy of your Eyes CONSTANCY By the same Author FEar not My Dear a

blow Swift Executors of his holy Word Whirlwinds and Tempest praise the Almighty Lord Mountains who to your Maker's View Seem less than Mole-Hills do to you Remember how when first Jehovah spoke All Heaven was Fire and Sinai hid in Smoak Praise him sweet Off-spring of the Ground With Heavenly Nectar yearly Crown'd And ye tall Cedars celebrate his Praise That in his Temple Sacred Altars raise Idle Musicians of the Spring Whose only cares to Love and Sing Fly thro the World and let your trembling Throat Praise your Creatour with the sweetest Note Praise him each Salvage Furious Beast That on his Stores do daily feast And you tame Slaves of the Laborious Plow Your weary Knees to your Creatour bow Majestick Monarchs Mortal Gods Whose Power hath here no Periods May all Attempts against your Crown be vain But still remember by whose power you Raign Let the wide World his Praises sing Where Tagus and Euphrates spring And from the Danube frosty Banks to those Where from an unknown head great Nilus flows You that dispose of all our Lives Praise him from whom your power derives Be True and Just like him and fear his Word As much as Malefactors do your Sword Praise him old Monuments of Time O praise him in your Youthful prime Praise him fair Idols of our greedy Sence Exalt his Name sweet Age of Innocence Jehovah's Name shall only last When Heaven Earth and all is past Nothing Great God is to be found in Thee But Unconceivable Eternity Exalt O Jacob's Sacred Race The God of Gods the God of Grace Who will above the Stars your Empire raise And with His Glory Recompence your Praise TO ORINDA An Imitation of HORACE By the Earl of Roscommon Integer vitae c. Carm. Lib. 1. Od. 22. I. VIrtue dear Friend needs no defence No Arms but it s own Innocence Quivers and Bows and poison'd Darts Are only us'd by guilty Hearts II. An honest mind safely alone May travel through the burning Zone Or through the deepest Scythian Snows Or where the fam'd Hydaspes flows III. While rul'd by a resistless fire Our Great ORINDA I Admire The hungry Wolves that see me stray Unarm'd and single run away IV. Set me in the remotest place That ever Neptune did embrace When there her Image fills my Breast Helicon is not half so blest V. Leave me upon some Libyan Plain So she my Fancy entertain And when the thirsty Monsters meet They 'll all pay homage to my Feet VI. The Magick of ORINDA's Name Not only can their fierceness tame But if that mighty word I once rehearse They seem submissively to roar in Verse THE GROVE By the same Author AH happy Grove Dark and secure retreat Of Sacred silence Rest's Eternal Seat How well your cool and unfrequented shade Suits with the chaste retirements of a Maid Oh! If kind Heav●n had been so much my friend To make my Fate upon my choice depend All my ambition I would here confine And only this Elyzium should be mine Fond Men by Passion wilfully betray'd Adore those Idols which their fancy made Purchasing Riches with our time and care We lose our freedom in a gilded Snare And having all all to our selves refuse Opprest with Blessings which we fear to use Fame is at best but an inconstant good Vain are the boasted Titles of our Blood We soonest lose what we most highly prise And with our Youth our short-liv'd Beauty dies In vain our Fields and Flocks increase our store If our abundance makes us wish for more How happy is the harmless Country Maid Who rich by Nature scorns superfluous aid Whose modest Cloaths no wanton eyes invite But like her Soul preserves the Native White Whose little store her well-taught Mind does please Not pinch'd with want nor cloyd with wanton ease Who free from Storms which on the Great Ones fall Makes but few Wishes and enjoys them all No care but Love can discompose her Breast Love of all Cares the sweetest and the best Whil'st on sweet Grass her bleating Charge does lie Our happy Lover feeds upon her eye Not one on whom or Gods or Men impose But one whom Love has for this Lover chose Under some favourite Myrtle's shady Boughts They speak their Passions in repeated Vows And whilst a Blush confesses how she burns His faithful heart makes as sincere returns Thus in the Arms of Love and Peace they lie And whilst they Live their flames can never die THE DUEL OF THE STAGS Written by the Honourable Sir ROBERT HOWARD IN Windsor Forest before War destroy'd The harmless Pleasures which soft Peace injoy'd A mighty Stag grew Monarch of the Heard By all his Savage Slaves obey'd and fear'd And while the Troops about their Soveraign fed They watch't the awful nodding of his Head Still as he passeth by they all remove Proud in Dominion Prouder in his Love And while with Pride and Appetite he swells He courts no chosen object but compels No Subject his lov'd Mistress dares deny But yields his hopes up to his Tyranny Long had this Prince imperiously thus sway'd By no set Laws but by his Will obey'd His fearful Slaves to full Obedience grown Admire his strength and dare not use their own One Subject most did his suspicion move That show'd least Fear and counterfeited Love In the best Pastures by his side he fed Arm'd with two large Militia's on his head As if he practis'd Majesty he walk't And at his Nod he made not haste but stalk't By his large shade he saw how great he was And his vast Layers on the bended Grass His thoughts as large as his proportion grew And judg'd himself as fit for Empire too Thus to rebellious hopes he swell'd at length Love and Ambition growing with his strength This hid Ambition his bold Passion shows And from a Subject to a Rival grows Sollicits all his Princes fearful Dames And in his sight Courts with rebellious flames The Prince sees this with an inflamed Eye But Looks are only signs of Majesty When once a Prince's Will meets a restraint His Power is then esteem'd but his Complaint His Head then shakes at which th' affrighted Heard Start to each side his Rival not afear'd Stands by his Mistress side and stirs not thence But bids her own his Love and his Defence The Quarrel now to a vast height is grown Both urg'd to fight by Passion and a Throne But Love has most excuse for all we find Have Passions tho' not Thrones alike assign'd The Soveraign Stag shaking his loaded head On which his Scepters with his Arms were spread Wisely by Nature there together fix't Where with the Title the Defence was mixt The Pace which he advanc'd with to engage Became at once his Majesty and Rage T'other stands still with as much confidence To make his part seem only his defence Their heads now meet and at one blow each strikes As many strokes as if a Rank of Pikes Grew on his Brows as thick their

much to blame To blow the fire and wonder at the flame I did converse 't is true so far was mine But that I Lov'd and hop'd was wholly thine Not hop'd as others do for a return But that I might without offending burn I thought those Eyes which every hour enslave Could not remember all the Wounds they gave Forgotten in the Crowd I wisht to lie And of your Coldness not your Anger die Yet since you know I Love 't is now no time Longer to hide let me excuse the Crime Seeing what Laws I to my Passion give Perhaps you may consent that it should live First It never shall a hope advance Of waiting on you but by seeming chance I at a distance will Adore your Eyes As awful Persians do the Eastern Skies I never will presume to think of Sex Nor with gross Thoughts my Deathless Love perplex I tread a pleasant path without design And to thy care my Happiness resign From Heaven it self thy Beauty cannot be A freer Gift than is my Love to Thee TO A Devout Young Woman By the same Author PHillis this mighty Zeal asswage You over-act your part The Martyrs at your tender Age Gave Heaven but half their Heart Old Men till past the Pleasure ne'er Declaim against the Sin 'T is early to begin to fear The Devil at Fifteen The World to Youth is too severe And like a Treacherous Light Beauty the Actions of the Fair Exposes to their sight And yet this World as old as 't is Is oft deceiv'd by 't too Wise Combinations seldom miss Let 's try what we can do SONG By the same Author WHEN Aurelia first became The Mistress of his Heart So mild and gentle was her Reign Thyrsis in hers had part Reserves and Care he laid aside And gave his Love the Reins The headlong course he now must bide No other way remains At first her Cruelty he fear'd But that being overcome No second for a while appear'd And he thought all his own He call'd himself a happier Man Than ever Lov'd before Her Favours still his Hopes out-ran What Mortal can have more Love smil'd at first then looking grave Said Thyrsis leave to boast More joy than all her kindness gave Her Fickleness will cost He spoke and from that fatal time All Thyrsis did or said Appear'd unwelcome or a Crime To the Ungrateful Maid Then he despairing of her Heart Would fain have had his own Love answered such a Nymph could part With nothing she had won On the Lamented DEATH Of the Late Countess of DORSET By N. Tate Servant to Their Majesties HOME Shepherds to your Cottages retire Your Dorset Mourns no more the Pipe inspire Your Mirth is done your Care is vain what need To Tend those Flocks that will no longer Feed Nature her self concern'd for Him appears Sables for his and her lost Darling wears She Sighs in Storms and Weeps in Seas of Tears Ev'n Earth that does the precious Relicks shroud Laments the Treasure that shou'd make her Proud Alone exempted from the gen'ral Care The Skies rejoyce to have regain'd their Star Profane Disease The Crime had been too great In only Batt'ring of so fair a Seat Which spightfully thou quite hast undermin'd Because the bright Remains would still have shin'd So Envious Rome no Method cou'd employ Fair Carthage to Subdue but to Destroy Mute are the Groves where Happy Shepherds sung And Philomel once more has lost her Tongue The Palm and Myrtle Glades no longer please Cypress and Yew are now the only Trees The ruthfull'st Objects most Endearments have The Uncouth Vale Delights and gloomy Cave Can please because it represents the Grave Tears our Refreshment are our sole Relief To give Despair free scope To set the Sluces ope And Rowl with the Impetuous Tide of Grief Let the next Age the costly Tomb prepare To her shrin'd Image come and seek her there The Present rears beyond the Pow'r of Art A breathing Monument in ev'ry Heart What Rhet'rick can divorce what Charms of Verse The Sighing Mother from her Darling's Hearse To trace her Features and her Virtues paint In Form an Angel as in Life a Saint Are Themes ill suited to a Parent 's Grief The Food of Sorrow an unkind Relief One only Sov'raign Balm sick Nature bears A Sympathizing Royal Mourners Tears Though Gods nor Goddesses may Fate reverse Our Goddess Weeping Consecrates the Hearse Behold forlorn the Muses Patron laid With Mourning Cupids in the Cypress shade Of Fate nor cruel Skies he once complains But inwardly the Conflict deep sustains The strugling Tumult in his Breast restrains O DORSET cou'd our Worthless Live pretend Whose Comforts only on thy Smiles depend To Bribe thy Griefs how pleas'd cou'd we resign Our Breaths compounding for one Pang of thine Our Useless Breaths are tender'd now in vain Since Tuneful Notes no more must chear the Plain Let Numbers cease for whom shou'd they relieve That can no Comfort to their Patron give Yet DORSET Live in pity to the Age That to Condole thy Loss forgets its Rage The Impious Age still from one Crime is free Mad with Intestine Strife we all agree As in Admiring in Lamenting Thee Let those dear Pledges Intercede at least The Living Relicks of the Fair Deceas'd Till Infant Beauty to full Bloom arrives The Mother's Virtues and her Charms revives Till Dawning Buckhurst to his Zenith rise And gild like you and warm our Northern Skies Till then Indulge our dearest Wishes scope Next Age's DORSET Britain's second Hope TO CHLORIS By Sir Charles Sedley CHloris I cannot say your Eyes Did my unwary Heart surprize Nor will I swear it was your Face Your Shape or any nameless Grace For you are so entirely Fair To Love a part injustice were No drowing Man can know which drop Of water his last breath did stop So when the Stars in Heaven appear And joyn to make the Night look clear The Light we no one's Bounty call But the united work of all He that both Lips or Hands adore Deserves them only and no more But I Love all and every part And nothing less can ease my Heart Cupid that Lover weakly strikes Who can express what 't is he likes SONG By the same Author AVrelia Art thou mad To let the World in me Envy Joys I never had And censure them in Thee Fill'd with grief for what is past Let us at length be wise And the Banquet boldly taste Since we have paid the price Love does easie Souls despise Who lose themselves for Toys And Escape for those devise Who taste his utmost Joys To be thus for Trifles blam'd Like theirs a Folly is Who are for vain Swearing Damn'd And knew no higher Bliss Love should like the Year be Crown'd With sweet variety Hope should in the Spring be found Kind Fears and Jealousie In the Summer Flowers should rise And in the Autumn Fruit His Spring doth else but mock our Eyes And in a Scoff Salute SONG By the same