Selected quad for the lemma: heart_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
heart_n	wound_a	wound_v	yield_v	16	3	6.6632	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A34931	Steps to the temple ; The delights of the Muses ; and, Carmen Deo Nostro by Ric. Crashaw ...	Crashaw, Richard, 1613?-1649.; Crashaw, Richard, 1613?-1649. Delight of the Muses.; Crashaw, Richard, 1613?-1649. Carmen Deo Nostro.	1670 (1670)	Wing C6839; ESTC R15482	79,698	224

fallacy of fire That is a Seraphim they say And this the great Teresia Readers be rul'd by me and make Here a well-plac't and wise mistake You must transpose the picture quite And spell it wrong to read it right Read Him for Her and Her for Him And call the Saint the Seraphim Painter what didst thou understand To put her Dart into his hand See even the years and size of him Shows this the Mother Seraphim This is the Mistress flame and duteous he Her happy fire-works here comes down to see O most poor-spirited of men Had thy cold Pencil kist her Pen Thou couldst not so unkindly err To show us this faint shade for her Why Man this speaks pure mortal frame And mocks with female Frost Love's manly flame One would suspect thou meanst to print Some weak inferiour Woman Saint But had thy pale-fac't purple took Fire from the burning checks of that bright Book Thou wouldst on her have heapt up all That could be found Seraphical What e'r this youth of fire wears fair Rosie Fingers Radiant Hair Glowing Cheek and glistring Wings All those fair and flagrant things But before all that fiery Dart Had fill'd the Hand of this great Heart Do then as equal right requires Since his the blushes be and her 's the fires Resume and rectify thy rude design Undress thy Seraphim into Mine Redeem this injury of thy Art Give him the Vail give her the Dart. Give him the vail that he may cover The red Cheeks of a rivall'd Lover Asham'd that our worl'd now can show Nests of new Seraphims here below Give her the Dart for it is she Fair youth shoots both thy shaft and Thee Say all ye wise and well-pierc'd hearts That live and dy amidst her Darts What is 't your tastful spirits do prove In that rare life of her and Love Say and bear witness Sends she not A Seraphim at every shot What Magazins of immortal Arms there shine Heav'ns great Artillery in each'love-spun line Give then the Dart to her who gives the flame Give him the veil who gives the shame But if it be the frequent fate Of worst faults to be fortunate If all 's prescription and proud wrong Hearkens not to an humble song For all the gallantry of him Give me the suffring Seraphim His be the bravery of all those bright things The glowing Cheeks the glistering wings The Rosie hand the radiant Dart Leave her alone the Flaming Heart Leave her that and thou shalt leave her Not one loose shaft but Love's whole Quiver For in Love's Field was never found A Nobler weapon then a wound Love's Passives are his Activ'st part The wounded is the wounding heart O Heart the equal poise of Love 's both parts Big alike with Wounds and Darts Live in these conquering Leave 's Live all the same And walk through all Tongues one Triumphant flame Live here great Heart and love and dye and kill And bleed and wound and yield and conquer still Let this immortal Life where e'r it comes Walk in a croud of Loves and Martyrdomes Let mystick Deaths wait on 't and wise souls be The Love-slain witnesses of this life of thee O sweet incendiary shew here thy Art Upon this Carcass of a hard cold Heart Let all thy scatter'd shafts of Light that play Among the Leaves of thy large Books of day Combin'd against this Brest at once break in And take away from me my self and sin This Gracious Robbery shall thy bounty be And my best fortunes such fair spoils of me O thou undaunted Daughter of Desires By all thy Dow'r of Lights and Fires By all the Eagle in thee all the Dove By all thy Lives and Deaths of Love By thy large draughts of intellectual day And by thy thirsts of Love more large then they By all thy brim-fill'd Bowls of fierce desire By thy last mornings draught of liquid Fire By the full Kingdom of that final kiss That seiz'd thy parting Soul and seal'd thee his By all the Heav'ns thou hast in him Fair Sister of the Seraphim By all of Him we have in Thee Leave nothing of my Self in me Let me so read thy life that I Unto all life of mine may dy A Song LOrd when the sense of thy sweet Grace Sends up my Soul to seek thy Face Thy Blessed Eyes breed such desire I dye in Love's delicious Fire O Love I am thy Sacrifice Be still Triumphant Blessed Eyes Still shine on me fair Suns that I Still may behold though still I dye Second part Though still I dye I live again Still longing so to be still slain So gainful is such loss of breath I dye even in desire of death Still live in me this loving strife Of living Death and dying Life For while thou sweetly slayest me Dead to my self I live in thee To Mistrses M. R. Councel concerning her Choise DEar Heav'n-designed Soul Amongst the rest Of Suiters that besiege your Maiden brest Why may not I My fortune try And venture to speak one good word Not for my self alas but for my dearer Lord You 'ave seen already in this lower sphear Of Froth and Bubbles what to look for here Say gentle Soul what can you find But painted shapes Peacocks and Apes Illustrious Flies Guilded Dunghils Glorious Lyes Goodly surmises And deep disguises Oaths of Water Words of Wind Truth bids me say 't is time you cease to Trust Your Soul to any son of Dust. 'T is time you listen to a braver Love Which from above Calls you up higher And bids you come And choose your room Among his own fair sons of fire Where you among The Golden throng That watches at his Palace doors May pass along And follow those fair Stars of yours Stars much too fair and pure to wait upon The false smiles of a sublunary Sun Sweet let me Prophesie that at last 't will prove Your wary Love Lays up his purer and more precious vows And means them for a far more worthy Spouse Then this world of Lies can give you Ev'n for him with whom nor cost Nor love nor labour can be lost Him who never will deceive you Let not my Lord the Mighty Lover Of souls disdain that I discover The hidden Art Of his high stratagem to win your heart It was his Heav'nly Art Kindly to cross you In your mistaken Love That at the next remove Thence he might toss you And strike your troubled heart Home to himself to hide it in his Brest The bright ambrosial Nest Of Love of Life and everlasting Rest. Happy mistake That thus shall wake Your wise soul never to be won Now with a love below the Sun Your first choice fails O when you choose agen May it not be among the sons of men ALEXIAS The Complaint of the forsaken wife of Saint Alexis The First ELEGY I Late the Roman Youth 's lov'd praise and pride Whom long none could obtain though thousands try'd Lo here am left alas For my lost

these wage still their wars And bring home on thy Brest more thankless scars 57. Why did I spend my Life and spill my Blood That thy firm hand for ever might sustain A well-pois'd Scepter does it now seem good Thy Brothers blood be-spilt life spent in vain 'Gainst thy own Sons and Brothers thou hast stood In Arms when lesser cause was to complain And now cross Fates a watch about thee keep Can'st thou be careless now now can'st thou sleep 58. Where art thou Man what cowardly mistake Of thy great self hath stoln King Herod from thee O call thy self home to thy self wake wake And fence the hanging sword Heav'n throws upon thee Redeem a worthy wrath rouse thee and shake Thy self into a shape that may become thee Be Herod and thou shalt not miss from me Immortall stings to thy great Thoughts and thee 59. So said her richest Snake which to her Wrist For a beseeming Bracelet she had ty'd A special Worm it was as ever kist The foamy Lips of Cerberus she apply'd To the Kings Heart the Snake no sooner hist But Vertue heard it and away she hy'd Dire Flames diffuse themselves through every vein This done home to her Hell she hy'd amain 60. He wakes and with him ne'r to sleep new fears His Sweat-bedewed Bed had now betrai'd him To a vast field of Thorns ten thousand Spears All pointed in his Heart seem'd to invade him So mighty were th' amazing Characters With which his feeling Dream had thus dismai'd him He his own fancy-framed Foes defies In Rage My Arms give me my Arms he crys 61. As when a Pile of Food-preparing fire The Breath of artificial Lungs embraves The Caldron-prison'd waters streight conspire And beat the hot Brass with rebellious waves He murmures and rebukes their bold desire Th' impatient Liquor frets and foams and raves Till his o'rflowing pride suppress the Flame Whence all his high spirits and hot courage came 62. So boils the fired Herod's blood-swoln Brest Not to be siak'd but by a Sea of Blood His faithless Crown he feels loose on his Crest Which on false Tyrants Head ne'r firmly stood The Worm of jealous Envy and unrest To which his gnaw'd heart is the growing Food Makes him impatient of the lingring Light Hate the sweet peace of all-composing Night 63. A Thousand Prophecies that talk strange things Had sown of old these doubts in his deep Brest And now of late came Tributary Kings Bringing him nothing but new Fears from th' East More deep suspicions and more deadly stings With which his Feav'rous Cares their cold increast And now his dream hells firebrand still more bright Shew'd him his fears and kill'd him with the sight 64. No sooner therefore shall the morning see Night hangs yet heavy on the Lids of day But all his Counsellours must summon'd be To meet their troubled Lord without delay Heralds and Messengers immediately Are sent about who poasting every way To th' Heads and Officers of every Band Declare who sends and what is his Command 65. Why art thou troubled Herod what vain fear Thy Blood-revolving Brest to Rage doth move Heav'ns King who doffs himself weak flesh to wear Comes not to rule in Wrath but serve in Love Nor would he this thy fear'd Crown from thee Tear But give thee a better with himself above Poor jealousie why should he wish to prey Upon thy Crown who gives his own away 66. Make to thy reason Man and mock thy doubts Look how below thy Fears their Causes are Thou art a soldier Herod send thy Scouts See how he 's furnish't for so fear'd a War What Armour does he wear a few thin Clouts His Trumpets tender crys his men to dare So much rude Shepheards What his Steeds alas Poor Beasts a slow Oxe and a simple Asse Il fine del Libro primo On a Prayer Book sent to Mrs. M. R. LO here a little Volume but great Book Fear it not sweet It is no Hypocrit Much larger in it self then in its look It is in one rich Handful Heaven and all Heavens Royal Hosts incampt thus small To prove that true Schools use to tell A thousand Angels in one point can dwell It is Loves great Artillery Which here contracts it self and comes to lye Close coucht in your white Bosome and from thence As from a snowy Fortress of defence Against the ghostly Foe to take your part And fortify the Hold of your chaste heart It is the Armory of Light Let constant Use but keep it bright You 'l find it yields To Holy Hands and Humble Hearts More Swords and Shields Then Sin hath Snares or Hell hath Darts Only be sure The Hands be pure That hold these Weapons and the Eyes Those of Turtles Chaste and True Wakeful and Wise. Here is a Friend shall fight for you Hold but this Book before your Heart Let Prayer alone to play his part But O' the Heart That studies this high Art Must be a sure House-keeper And yet no sleeper Dear Soul be strong Mercy will come e'r long And bring her Bosome full of Blessings Flowers of never fading Graces To make immortal dressings For worthy Souls whose wise embraces Store up themselves for him who is alone The spouse of Virgins and the Virgins Son But if the Noble Bridegroom when he comes Shall find the wandring heart from home Leaving her Chaste abode To gad abroad Amongst the gay Mates of the god of Flies To take her pleasures and to play And keep the Devils Holy day To dance in the Sun-shine of some smiling but beguiling Spear of Sweet and Sugered Lies Some slipery pair Of False perhaps as Fair Flattering but ●…orswearing Eyes Doubtless some other Heart Will get the start And stepping in before Will take possession of the Sacred store Of hidden Sweets and holy Joyes Words which are not heard with Ears These tumultous shops of noise Effectual whispers whose still voice The Soul it self more feels then hears Amorous Languishments Luminous Trances Sights which are not seen with Eyes Spiritual and Soul piercing Glances Whose Pure and Subtle Lightning flies Home to the Heart and sets the House on fire And melts it down in sweet desire Yet doth not stay To ask the Windows leave to pass that way Delicious Deaths soft Exhalations Of Soul Dear and Divine annihilations A thousand unknown Rites Of Joys and rarified Delights An hundred thousand Loves and Graces And many a mistick thing Which the Divine embraces Of the dear spouse of Spirits with them will bring For which it is no shame That dull Mortality must not know a Name Of all this hidden store Of Blessings and ten thousand more If when he come He find the Heart from home Doubtless he will unload Himself some otherwhere And pour abroad His precious Sweets On the fair Soul whom first he meets O fair O fortunate O rich O dear O happy and thrice happy she Dear Silver-brested Dove Who ere she be Whose early Love With

a Pathetical descant upon the devout Plainsong of Stabat Mater dolorosa 1. IN shade of Deaths sad Tree Stood doleful she Ah she now by no other Name to be known alas but Sorrow's Mother Before her Eyes Her 's and the whole World's joyes Hanging all torn she sees and in his woes And Pains her pangs and throes Each wound of his from every part All more at home in her own heart 2. What kind of Marble than Is that cold man Who can look on and see Nor keep such Noble sorrows company Sure even from you My Flints some drops are due To see so many unkind swords contest So fast for one soft Brest While with a faithful mutual floud Her Eyes bleed Tears his wounds weep blood 3. O costly intercourse Of deaths and worse Divided Loves while Son and Mother Discourse alternate wounds to one another Quick Deaths that grow And gather as they come and go His Nails write swords in her which soon her heart Pays back with more then their own smart Her swords still growing with his pain Turn Spears and straight come home again 4. She sees her Son her God Bow with a load Of borrow'd sins and swim In woes that were not made for him Ah hard Command Of Love Here must she stand Charg'd to look on and with a stedfast Eye See her life dye Leaving her only so much Breath As serves to keep alive her death 5. O Mother Turtle-dove Soft sourse of Love That these dry Lids might borrow Somthing from thy full seas of Sorrow O in that Brest Of thine the noblest Nest Both of Love's Fires and Flouds might I recline This hard cold Heart of mine The chil lump would relent and prove Soft Subject for the siege of Love 6. O teach those wounds to bleed In me me so to read This Book of Loves thus writ In lines of death my life may copy it With Loyal cares O let me here claim shares Yield something in thy sad prerogative Great Queen of griefs and give Me to my Tears who though all stone Think much that thou shouldst mourn alone 7. Yea let my life and me Fix here with thee And at the Humble Foot Of this fair Tree take our Eternal Root That so we may At least be in Loves way And in these chaste wars while the wing'd wounds flee So fast 'twixt him and thee My Brest may catch the kiss of some kind Dart Though as at second hand from either Heart 8. O you your own best Darts Dear doleful hearts Hail and strike home and make me see That wounded bosomes their own weapons be Come Wounds come Darts Nail'd hands and pierced hearts Come your whole selves Sorrow's great Son and Mother Nor grudge a younger Brother Of grief 's his portion who had all their due One single wound should not have left for you 9. Shall I set there So deep a share Dear wounds and onely now In sorrows draw no dividend with you O be more wife If not more soft mine Eyes Flow tardy Founts and into decent showrs Dissolve my Days and Hours And if thou yet faint soul defer To bleed with him fail not to weep with her 10. Rich Queen lend some relief At least an alms of Grief To ' a heart who by sad right of sin Could prove the whole sum too sure due to him By all those stings Of Love sweet bitter things Which these torn hands transcrib'd on thy true Heart O teach mine too the Art To study him so till we mix Wounds and become one Crucifix 11. O let me suck the Wine So long of this chaste Vine Till drunk of the dear wounds I be A lost thing to the World as it to me O faithful friend Of me and of my end Fold up my life in Love and lay 't beneath My dear Lord's vital death Lo heart thy hopes whole Plea her precious breath Powr'd out in Prayers for thee thy Lord 's in death The Hymn of St. Thomas in Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament WIth all the pow'rs my poor Heart hath Of humble Love and Loyal Faith Thus low my hidden life I bow to thee Whom too much Love hath bow'd more low for me Down down proud sense discourses dye Keep close my soul 's inquiring Eye Nor touch nor taste must look for more But each sit still in his own door Your Ports are all superfluous here Save that which lets in Faith the Ear. Faith is my skill Faith can believe As fast as Love new Laws can give Faith is my force Faith strength affords To keep pace with those pow'rful words And words more sure more sweet then they Love could not think truth could not say O let thy wretch find that relief Thou didst afford the faithful Thief Plead for me Love Alledge and show That Faith has farther here to go And less to lean on because than Though hid as God wounds writ thee Man Thomas might touch none but might see At least the suffring side of thee And that too was thy self which thee did cover But here ev n that 's hid too which hides the other Sweet consider then that I Though allow'd not Hand nor Eye To teach at thy lov'd Face nor can Taste thee God or touch thee Man Both yet believe and witness thee My Lord too and my God as loud as he Help Lord my Hope increase And till my portion in thy peace Give Love for Life nor let my days Grow but in new pow'rs to name thy Praise O dear memorial of that Death Which lives still and allows us Breath Rich Royal Food Bountiful Bread Whose use denies us to the Dead Whose vital gust alone can give The same leave both to Eat and Live Live ever Bread of Loves and be My Life my Soul my surer self to me O soft self-wounding Pelican Whose Brest weeps Balm for wounded Man Ah this way bend thy benign Houd To a bleeding Heart that g●…spes for Blood That Blood whose least drops soveraign be To wash my Worlds of sine from me Come Love Come Lord and that long day For which I languish come away When this dry soul those Eyes shall see And drink the unseal'd sourse of thee When Glory 's Sun Faith's shade shall chase Then for thy veil give me thy Face Amen Thè Hymn for the Blessed Sacrament Lauda Sion Salvatorem 1. RIse Royal Sion rise and sing Thy Soul 's kind Shepheard thy Hearts King Stretch all thy powers call if you can Harps of Heav'n to hands of man This Soveraign subject sits above The best ambition of thy Love 2. Lo the Bread of Life this day 's Triumphant Text. provokes thy praise The living and life-giving Bread To the Great Twelve distributed When Life himself at point to dy Of Love was his own Legacy 3. Come Love and let us work a Song Loud and pleasant sweet and long Let Lips and Hearts lift high the noise Of so just and solemn joys Which on his white brows this