Selected quad for the lemma: life_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A61292
|
Poems by Thomas Stanley, Esquire.
|
Stanley, Thomas, 1625-1678.
|
1651
(1651)
|
Wing S5241; ESTC R226610
|
23,932
|
87
|
reside Chor. Both Souls thus in desire are one And each is two in Skill Doubled in Intellect alone United in the Will Weal Nature no such Power doth know Love only can these Wonders show Vnaltred by Sicknesse SIcknesse in vain thou dost invade A Beauty that can never fade Could all thy Malice but impair One of the sweets which crown this fair Or steal the spirits from her Eye Or kisse into a paler dye The blushing Roses of her Cheek Our drooping hopes might justly seek Redress from thee and thou mightst save Thousands of Lovers from the Grave But such assaults are vain for she Is too divine to stoop to thee Blest with a Form as much too high For any Change as Destiny Which no attempt can violate For what 's her Beauty is our Fate On His Mistresse's Death PETRARCH Love the Ripe Harvest of my toils Began to cherish with his Smiles Preparing me to be indued With all the Ioyes I long pursued When my fresh Hopes fair and full blown Death blasts ere I could call my own Malicious Death why with rude Force Dost thou my fair from me divorce False Life why in this loathed Chain Me from my fair dost thou detain In whom assistance shall I finde Alike are Life and Death unkinde Pardon me Love thy power outshines And laughs at their infirm designes She is not wedded to a Tomb Nor I to sorrow in her room They what thou joyn'st can nere divide She lives in me in her I dy'd The Exequies DRaw neer You Lovers that complain Of Fortune or Disdain And to my Ashes lend a tear Melt the hard marble with your grones And soften the relentlesse Stones Whose cold imbraces the sad Subject hide Of all Loves cruelties and Beauties Pride No Verse No Epicedium bring Nor peaceful Requiem sing To charm the terrâ—â—rs of my Herse No prophane Numbers must flow neer The sacred silence that dwells here Vast Griefs are dumb softly oh softly mourn Lest you disturb the Peace attends my Urn Yet strew Upon my dismall Grave Such offerings as you have Forsaken Cypresse and sad Ewe For kinder Flowers can take no Birth Or growth from such unhappy Earth Weep only o're my Dust and say Here lies To Love and Fate an equal Sacrifice The Silkworm THis Silk-worm to long Sleep retir'd The early Year hath re-inspir'd Who now to pay to thee prepares The Tribute of her pleasing cares And hastens with industrious toyl To make thy Ornament her Spoyl See with what pain she spins for thee The thread of her own Destinie Then growing proud in Death to know That all her curious Labours thou Wilt as in Triumph deign to wear Retires to her soft Sepulchre Such Dearest is that hapless State To which I am design'd by Fate Who by thee willingly o'recome Work mine own Fetters and my Tomb A Ladie weeping MONTALVAN AS when some Brook flies from it self away The murm'ring Christal loosely runs astray And as about the verdant Plain it windes The Meadows with a silver ribband bindes Printing a kisse on every Flower she meets Loosing her self to fill them with new sweets To scatter frost upon the Lilies Head And Scarlet on the Gilliflower to spread So melting sorrow in the fair disguise Of humid Stars flow'd from bright Cloris Eyes Which watring every Flower her Cheek discloses Melt into Iesmines here there into Roses Ambition I Must no longer now admire The coldnesse which possest Thy snowy Breast That can by other Flames be set on Fire Poor Love to harsh Disdain betray'd Is by Ambition thus out-weigh'd Hadst thou but known the vast extent Of Constant Faith how farre 'Bove all that are Born slaves to Wealth or Honours vain ascent No richer Treasure couldst thou finde Than hearts with mutual Chains combin'd But Love is too despis'd a name And must not hope to rise Above these ties Honour and Wealth out-shine his paler Flame These unite Souls whilst true desire Unpitied dies in its own Fire Yet cruel Fair one I did aim With no less Justice too Than those that sue For other hopes and thy proud Fortunes claim Wealth honours honours wealth approve But Beauty's only meant for Love Song VVHen Dearest Beauty thou shalt pay Thy faith and my vain hope away To some dull soul that cannot know The worth of that thou dost bestow Lest with my sighs and tears I might Disturb thy unconfin'd delight To some dark shade I will retire And there forgot by all expire Thus whilst the difference thou shalt prove Betwixt a feign'd and real Love Whilst he more happy but lesse true Shall reap those joyes I did pursue And with those pleasures crowned be By Fate which Love design'd for me Then thou perhaps thy self wilt finde Cruel too long or too soon kinde The Revenge RONSARD FAir Rebell to thy self and Time Who laughst at all my tears When thou hast lost thy youthfull prime And age his Trophie rears Weighing thy inconsiderate pride Thou shalt in vain accuse it Why Beauty am I now deni'd Or knew not then to use it Then shall I wish ungentle Fair Thou in like flames may'st burn Venus if just will hear my prayer And I shall laugh my turn Song I Will not trust thy tempting graces Or thy deceitful charms Nor pris'ner be to thy embraces Or fetter'd in thy arms No Celia no not all thy art Can wound or captivate my heart I will not gaze upon thy Eyes Or wanton with thy Hair Lest those should burn me by surprize Or these my soul ensnare Nor with those smiling dangers play Or fool my Liberty away Since then my wary heart is free And unconfin'd as thine If thou would'st mine should captiv'd be Thou must thine own resigne And gratitude may thus move more Then Love or Beauty could before Song NO I will sooner trust the Wind When falsely kind It courts the pregnant Sails into a storm And when the smiling Waves perswade Be willingly betray'd Then thy deceitful Vows or Form Go and beguile some easie heart With thy vain art Thy smiles and kisses on those fools bestow Who only see the Calms that sleep On this smooth flatt'ring Deep But not the hidden dangers know They that like me thy Falsehood prove Will scorn thy Love Some may deceiv'd at first adore thy Shrine But He that as thy sacrifice Doth willingly fall twice Dies his own Martyr and not thine To a blinde Man in Love MARINO LOver than Love more blinde whose bold thoughts dare Fix on a Woman is both young and fair If Argus with a hundred Eyes not one Could guard hop'st thou to keep thine who hast none Answer I 'm blinde 't is true but in Loves rules defect Of sence is aided by the Intellect And senses by each other are suppli'd The touch enjoyes what 's to the sight deni'd Song I Prethee let my heart alone Since now t is rais'd above thee Not all the Beauty thou dost own Again can make me love thee He that was shipwrack'd once
sleeps with Debts not broke the Night Cheerfull my Board my Smiles shar'd by my Wife O Gods yet mindful still of humane Life To die nor let me wish nor fear among My Ioyes mix Griefs Griefs that not last too long My Age be happy and when Fate shall claim My thread of Life let me survive in Fame Enough the Gods are pleas'd the Flames aspire And crackling Laurel triumphs in the Fire E Catalectis vet. Poet A Small well-gotten Stock and Countrey seat I have yet my content makes both seem great My quiet Soul to fears is not inur'd And from the sins of Idlenesse secur'd Others may seek the Camp others the Town And fool themselves with pleasure or renown Let me unminded in the common crowd Live Master of the time that I 'm allow'd On the Edition of M. Fletchers Works FLetcher whose Fame no Age can ever wast Envie of ours and glory of the last Is now alive again and with his Name His sacred ashes wak'd into a Flame Such as before did by a secret Charm The wildest Heart subdue the coldest warm And lend the Ladies Eyes a power more bright Dispensing thus to either Heat and Light He to a sympathie those Souls betray'd Whom Love or Beauty never could perswade And in each mov'd Spectator could beget A real passion by a Counterfeit When first Bellario bled what Ladie there Did not for every drop let fall a tear And when Aspà sia wept not any Eye But seem'd to wear the same sad Livery By him inspir'd the feign'd Lucina drew More streams of melting sorrow then the true But then the Scornful Ladie did beguile Their easie griefs and teach them all to smile Thus he Affections could or raise or lay Love Grief and Mirth thus did his Charms obey He Nature taught her passions to out-do How to refine the old and create new Which such a happy likenesse seem'd to bear As if that Nature Art Art Nature were Yet all had nothing been obscurely kept In the same Urn wherein his Dust hath slept Nor had he ris ' the Delphick Wreath to claim Had not the dying Scene expir'd his Name O the indulgent Justice of this Age To grant the Press what it denies the Stage Despair our Joy hath doubled He is come Twice welcome by this Postliminium His losse preserv'd him They that silenc'd Wit Are now the Authors to eternize it Thus Poets are in spight of Fate reviv'd And Playes by intermission longer liv'd To Mr. W. Hammond THou best of friendship knowledge and of Art The charm of whose lov'd name preserves my heart From female vanities thy name which there Till time dissolves the Fabrick I must wear Forgive a Crime which long my soul opprest And crept by chance in my unwary Brest So great as for thy pardon were unfit And to forgive were worse then to commit But that the fault and pain were so much one The very act did expiate what was done I who so often sported with the flame Plaid with the Boy and laught at both as tame Betray'd by Idlenesse and Beauty fell At last in love love both the sin and Hell No punishment great as my fault esteem'd But to be that which I so long had seem'd Behold me such a Face a Voice a Lute The sentence in a Minute execute I yield recant the Faith which I before Deny'd professe the Power I scorn'd implore Alas in vain no prayers no vowes can bow Her stubborn heart who neither will allow But see how strangely what was meant no lesse Then torment prov'd my greatest happinesse Delay that should have sharpned starv'd desire And cruelty not fann'd but quench'd my fire Love bound me now by kinde disdain set free I can despise that Love as well as she That sin to friendship I away have thrown My heart thou may'st without a rival own While such as willingly themselves beguile And sell away their freedoms for a smile Blush to confesse our joyes as far above Their hopes as friendship's longer liv'd then Love On M. Shirley's Poems WHen dearest Friend thy verse doth re-inspire Loves pale decaying Torch with brighter fire Whilst every where thou dost dilate thy flame And to the World spread thy Odelias Name The Justice of all Ages must remit To Her the Prize of Beauty Thee of Wit Then like some skilful Artist that to wonder Framing a peece displeas'd takes it asunder Thou Beauty dost depose her Charms deny And all the mystick chains of Love untie Thus thy diviner Muse a power 'bove Fate May boast that can both make and uncreate Next thou call'st back to life that Love-sick Boy To the kinde-hearted Nymphs lesse fair then coy Who by reflex Beams burnt with vain desire Did Phoenix-like in his own flames expire But should he view his shadow drawn by thee He with himself once more in love would be Eccho who though she words pursue her hast Can only overtake and stop the last Shall her first Speech and human veil obtain To sing thy softer numbers o're again Thus into dying Poetry thy Muse Doth full perfection and new life infuse Each line deserves a Laurel and thy praise Asks not a Garland but a Grove of Bayes Nor can ours raise thy lasting Trophies higher Who only reach at merit to admire But I must chide thee Friend how canst thou be A Patron yet a Foe to Poetrie For while thou dost this Age to Verse restore Thou dost deprive the next of owning more And hast so far even future Aims surpast That none dare write Thus being first and last All their abortive Muses will suppresse And Poetry by this increase grow lesse On M. Sherburn's Translation of Seneca's Medea and vindication of the Author THat wise Philosopher who had design'd To life the various passions of the Minde Did wrong'd Medea's Jealousie prefer To entertain the Roman Theater Both to instruct the Soul and please the Sight At once begetting Horrour and delight This cruelty thou dost once more expresse Though in a strange no lesse becoming dress And her revenge hast rob'd of half its pride To see it self thus by it self outvi'd That boldest Ages past may say our times Can speak as well as act their highest Crimes Nor was 't enough to do his Scene this right But what thou gav'st to us with equal light Thou wouldst bestow on him nor wert more just Unto the Authors work then to his Dust Thou dost make good his title aid his Claim Both vindicate his Poem and his Name So shar'st a double wreath for all that we Unto the Poet owe he owes to thee Though change of tongues stoln praise to som afford Thy Version hath not borrow'd but restor'd On M. Halls Essayes WIts that matur'd by time have courted praise Shall see their works outdone in these Essayes And blush to know thy earlier years display A dawning clearer then their brightest day Yet I 'le not praise thee for thou hast outgrown The reach of all mens praises but thine own