Selected quad for the lemma: land_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
land_n	edward_n	young_a	youth_n	22	3	8.1910	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A67838	The temple of fame a poem, to the memory of the most illustrious Prince William Duke of Glocester / by Mr. Yalden.	Yalden, Thomas, 1670-1736.	1700 (1700)	Wing Y8; ESTC R14985	6,148	24

mourn Dark as the Grave and Silent as his Urn. One Labour more Silvanus yet remains Descending Phoebus shall inspire thy Strains And every Muse her willing Aid impart To crown the Verse and grace thy Tuneful Art Whilst here protected from the scorching Sun The kind complaining Streams in Murmurs run And grateful Shades form an Imperfect Day Prelude the Song thy mournful Tribute Pay When gently raising his dejected Head Thus to the Fair afflicted Nymph he said An irresistless Charm thy Sorrow bears Who can withstand the force of Pious Tears Compell'd by Fate and more Tyrannick Love My Soaring Muse shall visit Realms above Amidst the Stars admire his dawning Flame And rank Caesario in the List of Fame Let Charwell's List'ning Streams neglect to Flow The Heav'ns to Weep the sighing Winds to Blow When I the Youth 's sublimer Praise decline Unequal tho' my Verse the Theme's Divine Amintor thee whilst Foreign Shores invite And thy auspicious Muse extends her flight Amintor lov'd by Fame admired Young That Charm'st with ev'ry Grace in ev'ry Tongue Whether the Sein's attentive to thy Lays And Louvre's blest with British Caesar's Praise Or fam'd Versailes is in thy Numbers shown Adorn'd with Beauties that transcend her own Thy Absence now the drooping Muses mourn Implore thy Aid and Sigh for thy Return O cou'd I imitate the Mantuan Swain Inform the Flocks and charm the distant Plain Or cou'd I sing with British Colin's Art Wound ev'ry Ear move each relenting Heart And sweetly as the Young Alexis mourn In graceful Accents o're Pastora's Urn Such shou'd my Verse so just my Sorrows prove Worthy his Shade and my aspiring Love Then like Iudea's Shepherd l'd complain Mourning the Royal Youth untimely Slain Sad Albion's Hills like Gilboa shou'd hear And her detested Plains my Curses bear Each blasted Grove and weeping River tell How lov'd a Prince how much lamented fell Proceed my Muse and raise thy humble Song Boundless as Grief with raging Passion strong Let Tears unforc'd instruct thy Verse to flow Soft be thy Plaints Harmonious all thy Woe In yonder gloomy Vale a Grotto lies Rarely beheld but with lamenting Eyes There aged Ranks of blasted Cypress grow Of deadly Night-shade and the fatal Yew Destructive Aconites the Shores produce And drowzy Poppeys shed their baleful Iuice There black presaging Birds of Night repair Whose dreadful Omens rend the horrid Air The falling Waters yield a mournful Noise And sighing Winds assume a sadder Voice There no Advances of the absent Sun Dispel the Shades nor urge the Seasons on No blooming Sweets no chearful Greens appear But Winter blasts the undistinguish'd Year The Wretched fly to this abandon'd Place Where Scenes of Horrour may their Woes encrease Despairing Lovers here a Refuge find Indulge their Cares and sooth a gloomy Mind Ten Thousand Slaves tyrannick Beauty sends Here to court Fate and seek inglorious Ends. A lonely Mansion here erects its Head Rapacious as the Grave and stor'd with Dead Low'ring it stands on this detested Ground With Spoils of Youth and ravish'd Beauty crown'd Ancient as Time the pompous Work of Shade Rejecting Form and slighting Nature's Aid Beauty and Art the Ruder mass disdains Where Fate refides and Death in Triumph reigns The mournful Dome eludes our injur'd Sight Casts Terrours round and forms a deeper Night Obscure with Mists the Sable Front appears For ever Cold and Wet with falling Tears There Ranks of unregarded Urns remain And shatter'd Tombs an horrid Pomp maintain Proud Mausolaeums moulder there in State Magnificent with Heaps in Ruins great With Human Bones the ghastly Pavement's spread The last Remains of the neglected Dead There dying Lamps there solemn Tapers burn And long descending Vaults in endless Silence mourn Inglorious Crowds here undistinguish'd come To Nature's last Retreat a Peaceful Tombe An easie Change to Minds that seek no more But covet Rest and dream'd out Life before Those whom no Arts no shining Actions grace That liv'd obscure and fell a worthless Race Here in the Arms of kind Oblivion laid Their Names forgot they sleep beneath this Shade This Scene of Horrour but prepares the Way To Fields of Bliss Realms of Etherial Day This but an Entrance to the Sacred Pile Where Arts triumph and Native Graces smile Crystalline Roofs the glorious Dome adorn Fair as the Blushes of the rising Morn On Columns rais'd in beauteous Orders plac'd With Statues crown'd Triumphal Arches grac'd The Eye from far salutes the blest Abode Adores the Temple and the Guardian God In Consort here a hundred Trumpets join Return'd by Echoes thro' the vaulted Shrine Loud Hymns of Praise and joyful Paeans sound That reach extreamest Earth and Heav'ns superiour round Here Fame presides here jealous Honour stands To guard their Off-spring from the Tyrant's hands To keep the Heroe's boasted Name alive And make the Glorious after Death survive And here are Urns but Urns with Myrtle bound Adorn'd with Wreaths with deathless Laurels crown'd Whose sacred Ashes lasting Sweets diffuse And Bless the Toils of the recording Muse. Hither ambitious Crowds resort in vain Dulness and Sloth their lagging Feet detain From far they view the Empireal Seat But lost in Shades submit to common Fate Deluded Wretches that consume their Days In false pursuits of Fame and courting Praise In vain attempt the Adamantine Gate Or strive to rise beneath their Native weight Nature's averse Fame no Compassion shows Their Parts are form'd for Shade and long repose Here the fam'd Worthies of our British Race In pompous Shrines their awful Circles grace Admir'd below in Orbs they shine Above For Wars renown'd and softer Toils of Love And here Immortal Bards ascend in State Their Fame compleat and triumph over Fate Those envy'd Honours which the World denies To living Worth the bounteous Grave supplies And ev'ry Urn of the inspired Race With Kings and Heroes claim an Equal place For justly here Apollo's Off-spring's plac'd In that Pantheon which their Fancies rais'd They form its Beauties and its Triumphs spread Adorn it Living and possess it Dead And first the Heroes of her Regal Line In long Descents and graceful Orders shine Here warlike Danes here conqu'ring Normans sleep Whose rugged Shields their honour'd Relicts keep Those faithful Swords with which they Conquests spread Protect their Urns and Guard the Heroes dead Next those distinguish'd Chiefs that early bore Avenging Arms to Asia's injur'd Shore On Iordan's Banks immortal Honours won And made oppress'd Iudea's Wrongs their own Drove impious Tyrants from the Sacred Plain Redeem'd the Land and then refus'd to Reign O wondrous Youth from Warlike Edward sprung Envy'd by Fate and snatch'd from Triumphs young In Honour's shining Page the brightest Name Thy Britain's Glory and the Boast of Fame Cressy to Thee Immortal Honour yields And Laurels bloom in Poictiers bloody Fields The aged Prince thy Dangers view'd with Pride And saw thy Arm an Empire 's Fate decide The Gallick Genius fled before thy Sword And Victory confess'd her Rightful Lord