Selected quad for the lemma: heaven_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
B05880
|
A rhetorical rapture as composed into a funeral oration at the mournfull moving of His Highnes stately effigies from Somerset-House. / By Mr. Slater.
|
Slater, Samuel, d. 1704.
|
1658
(1658)
|
Wing S3969; Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.3[40]
|
2,570
|
1
|
A RHETORICAL RAPTURE AS COMPOSED INTO A FUNERAL ORATION At the Mournfull Moving of His HIGHNES Stately EFFIGIES from SOMERSET-HOUSE By Mr. Slater Si mea cum vestris valuissent vota Britanni Non essem exiguus tanti ploraminis actor Túque tuis Armis nos Te potiremur O Cromwel HAd not our Sins or'e our Prayers prevail'd We might have now for them not Thee bewail'd Thou thine owne Arms enjoy'd we joy'd in Thee Nor had there been this grand Disparitie So mean a Muse mourn so Heroick Worth But our kind Angel brings Fame's Treasures forth Fame sounds the Victories which Thou bequeaths Christendome crowning Thee with Laurel wreaths Seventh Henry's Chappel may Thy Corps entombe But for Thy Monuments the World 's the room Seventh Henry's or Cromwell's Chappel which you please Call it or to Them Both Chappel of Ease Or Honors Cabinet or Valours Tent To repose in after the Day is spent To rise at sound of Trump clad cap a pe pe In bright Armour of Immortalitie But soft Must CROMVVELL to an Abbey goe The name of Abbeys is to Cromwell's Foe 'T is true That Nobles zeal was very hot According unto Knowledge Was it not Knew Hee not too-too-well the Tromperies The fond Fripperies of the Friaries Dull Abbey-lubbers glutt'nous Luxury Zeal qualified thus though hot is not dry Not so dry to swallow them at a gu'p The Crimes of Abbeys did themselves eat up Go CROMVVELL then down to the Abbey go Down to thy mother bow Thy Daughter know Toll'd thy Great Bell the Prim-rose fading young The old Stock-Gilly-flower could not last long Go Honorably down to Thy long Home Thy Mother Earth hath deck'd Thee up a room Ah! Kind Mother that never forsaketh In life time Man of her Fruits partaketh And dead into her Bosome is receiv'd Such kindness not known might not be beleiv'd Patient Grizels Passive Great Grandmother We dare not in be-dull'd silence smother Top of our Kindreds so stupendious Kindness Left Ingratitude blast us to Blindness To give thy children Bread Thou suffering Long furrows in thy Back and they whistling The while and when that we Clods of Clay must At length come to our selves Dust unto Dust Thy very Bowels be digg'd up for us Why doest Thou suffer Why we serve Thee thus Like Agrippina art Thou upon it set To cry Occidar modò Imperet To gain thy Dirt-Bloud Off-spring Heavenly Crowns Without a Tear courting their heavy wounds Go CROMVVELL peaceably to thy long Home There needs not any bustling to make room Divine Eliza's and Sixth Edward's Dust Deposited in rich Carcanets in trust Till glorious morn of Resurrection Will in a Land-skip of th' Ascention To congratulate thy Sereness rise Flying quick into thy Followers eyes Whence such an Inundation of Tears That out-vied Thamesis shrinking with Fears Glides ghastly to the Main-Guard for recruit The mobled Ocean as its Natives mute At the Starting news flowes to th' Funerall Of his Great Master and out-weeps 'um all The trickling Brine blazoning All Strike-fail To RICHARD Oliver's Blazing Star the Whale Flaming Comets Divination hold But Whales extinct Divinity unfold Jonah's Pulpit dead turn'd Prophet shew'd Thee Thy Death swallow'd up into victorie Trees six-and-sevens toss'd the Storm 's Deep-witty While Sixty-six throws out the Seven-Hill'd City Griev'd Tyber crimson'd with Companions gore New-sleeks in her own wash Romes rivell'd Whore How 's Babylon Babel'd Her Merchants cry Ruining Storm ruin'd ecchoes as I. Go from this thy brave House of Somerset To a braver trimm'd with Thee our Summer set Sun-like Go down into thy Western Vault Our Great Generals Bride-chamber let us call 't CROMWELLS and Cromwellines True-Lovers-Knot Till to Glory waked Their Gloomy Grott To rest in or the Suns cool-silent Shade Where Worms do drive a very subtle Trade I' th Royal ' Change of the Moons Hieroglyphick The Arched Vault by the Mysterious trick Of Bartering growing big as Burgesses Trucking their Snips of Prince-worn Taffeties For whole pure Peeces of God-like durance But see the Wit of Justice though t' advance Themselves a-while by gourmandizing gains They neither Day nor Night spare any pains But to Corpulentize ravenous Wembs Anthropophagize even Royal Stems Vengeance at last doth Covetousness repay All Merchant-worms quite Breaking on Doomsday Go to thy Monumental Home 't is our part To attend Thee to thy Tombe where each Heart Entombing Thee our entombed Center We New Monuments mongst the Old shal enter In doleful March slowly to solemnize Our bounden Loyaltie in free-flowing eyes Stand there like Cristal Cloud-pointing Pyramid Carved by Angels for Great Brittains David Providences second Sweetheart There Stand Dictator of the first word of Command To Englands Senators who to Her true Can best knowing Caesars and Senates due Dominion-debates make like That unite Arm Hands abroad not Heads at home to fight Stand a Mirrour to Christian Magistrates A Terrour stand to Popish Potentates Stand an Honour to Seventh Henry's Pile An Horrour to Enemies of This Isle Stand in thy fair Effigies erect Admired Center of all Eyes Reflect The Royal rayes of thy Majestick form Calmly on thy Spectators let no storm Intwist thy Brow at an approaching Foe But seeing Thee he will a Convert goe Go CROMVVELL then Down to the Abbey goe Down to thy Mother Earth From Heaven know Honour keeps pace with Thee unto thy Tombe Nor will it there forsake Thee as with some And back go with the Heralds but fairly Hovering o're Thee out of thy memory Brood numberless Protectors to this Isle Who shall make Babylon frown and Syon smile The VVorlds chief General march to thy long Home March on thy Brave Herse to the worlds chief Tombe Thy Elias-Soul long since march'd away The Mantle falling on our Elisha Thy Souls march upwards was thy Corps march down Thy Soul hath free Reward Corps due Renown The Angels Treble-Anthem That singing is Adam's Heavy Slumber debasing This But This to That shall rise That welcome This Prerogative and Priviledge joyn in bliss March March away March down to thy long Home Millions of Mourners sigh to see Thee come Ye pretty chirping Choristers of th' Air Warbling wilde Elegies nimbly repair To His Chariot there Melody-spent die Out-doing Art in Natures Poetrie But yet hold out 'till ye have sung Him home To pick Him out your Feather-beds one of Downe Great Grandmother of walking Worms grave Earth Our Dry Eyes may portend deserved Dearth Admit our Plea Only light Sorrows whine The Grandeur of our Groans does surmount thine But Dame lest You gravell'd with groans falter All-a-row Souldiers row Him home by Water Phoenix of Princes Fame doth OLIVER own And prophecy'ng thus or'e the World 's now flown An Angels Quill dipt in Babylons Blood Shall make My CROMVVELL fully understood Till then Muses Rhet'rick shortning thy rate OLIVER's own Acts CROMVVELL best celebrate THE EPITAPH STay Pilgrim Stay Tread gently Mourn a while O're that rests under Th' Honour of this Isle Englands PROTECTOR Victorious OLIVER Europe's Arbitrator The World's Wonder The Nine Worthies grace-chymickt Quintessence Diamond of Saints Darling of Providence Amboyna's Blood-shed's Cure A Pearl i' th' Eye Of Romes Spaines Universal Monarchie Who broke the Irish-Harp the Welch new-strung Refin'd Parliaments did old Scots new-dung Was wise Servant a religious Master Provident Parent Bounteous Lord no Waster Captives Ransomer poor Pilgrims Patrone Champion 'gainst Gods Foes Chaplain to his owne Hast Pilgrim Hast Trip nimbly hence Be gone Lest free in Tears Thou freez into a Stone To be sold by Isaac Pridmore at the Golden Falcon near the New-Exchange 1658.