Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
lord_n	blood_n	body_n	soul_n	10,399	5	5.2639	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A61968	A pastoral poem upon the discovery of a late horrid conspiracy against the sacred person of William III. King of England By the honourable E. Howard, of Suffolk.	Suffolk, Edward Howard, Earl of, 1672-1731.	1696 (1696)	Wing S6159A; ESTC R222119	4,079	13

A Pastoral Poem UPON THE DISCOVERY Of a Late Horrid Conspiracy Against the SACRED PERSON OF WILLIAM III. KING of ENGLAND By the Honourable E. HOWARD of Suffolk Quam sese ore ferens quam forti pectore Armis Credo equidem nec vana fides genus esse Deorum Virg. Aen. Lib. 4. LONDON Printed for R. Baldwin near the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-Lane 1696. Advertisement to the Reader A Repulse to Virtuous Modesty is as unpleasant as too much Violence to the Blushes of a Tender Virgin To blast a Poet in the Blossom had there not been some extraordinary Life and Heat in the Root were enough to destroy all the latter Fruits of his Muse And verily when I saw lying neglected upon the cold Stall my Essay upon Pastoral as also an Elegy on the Death of the late Blessed Queen I was not a little concern'd at the hard Vsage I met with from the World and that I who had endeavour'd in some measure to gratifie Mankind should find no more favour from them But when I perceiv'd all this while I was taken for another Person it obliged me to take the first Opportunity of appearing again in Print and to distinguish my self from my Name-sake after the manner I have done in the Title-Page So that since in this matter the World has laboured under a mistake I hope I shall not suffer in my Reputation upon the account of another man For indeed in a word when I write like my Name-sake I am willing but not before to undergo the same Condemnation THE Song of Menalcas A PASTORAL Daphnis perceiving Menalcas to be very Melancholy solicites the Swain to let him know the cause After some little Discourse Menalcas tells him there was a horrid Design laid against their Flocks and that the Chief of the Shepherds was to have been Slain Daphnis and Menalcas Da. MEnalcas say what is it thee invites Thus to prolong with care the tedious Nights What mean these doubts and fears within thy breast Why so disturb'd and why so void of rest Thou who at Comus Feast ' mongst all the throng Appear'd so gay so beautiful and young Charming each Nymph with thy mellifluous tongue Say now whence comes the cause of all this grief Unfold your mind and you may meet relief Thy throbs and sighs declare it to be great Therefore in words to me your thoughts repeat Me. Indulgent Swain shou'd I to thee impart The torrent of my Wo and why my Heart Thus troubled is altho thou doest excel In all that 's good like whom few Pipe so well A sinking terror wou'd thy Limbs o're-spread And thou to me would'st seem like one that 's Dead Da. Ah me some sad mischance hath sure befel Thee or thy Flocks but which I cannot tell Me. Fond Swain look how the pretty Kids do play How merrily they dance the time away To whom the Night 's as pleasant as the Day Lo Bulls and Heifers wanton midst the Boughs Where Swains with Nymphs perform their Marriage Vows Th' alluring Ewes with sportive Rams do rove Passing from shade to shade and Grove to Grove Where they promiscuously do joyn in Love Behold how all the Vales and Fields do smile Pleas'd with the Joy and Glory of the Isle Yet ah a Race of Men more cruel far Than the fierce Scythians who delight in War Against our Flocks a dire Design have laid And we by them had like t' have been betray'd For now the Gods our Shepherdess have ta'ne These barb'rous Men wou'd have destroy'd our Swain Da. A secret Horror doth my body seize And my cold blood within my Veins does freeze Black was the Deed Inhumane the Design When ' gainst our Flocks Men did with Hell combine Nay did they think to kill the righteous Pan Lord of these Woods and Glory of the Plain Infernal Wretches what cou'd ever move Your tyger-Tyger-Souls thus inclement to prove What kill that Swain whom Gods and Nymphs so love Me. Th' Illustrious Race of Pan is known to all And him the Great Arcadian Prince they call His Deeds alone proclaim his Noble Blood Divine in Meen and in his Face a God Where e're he moves he kindly does dispence Life to the Soul and Virtue to the Sense Easie his Rule when all our Kine do feed Without disturbance in the golden Mead. Still as the Sun withdraws his beams of Light And Day resigns his Empire to the Night Unto the Fold his Sheep Comatas drives And Merry Bees go loaded to their Hives With Honey dropping from their tender thighs Product of Bliss the Dam preserves her Fawn And Love exerts his Pow'r in ev'ry Lawn Here under Pan we rest secure from Noise And Swains with Nymphs prolong their lives in joys What in these happy times cou'd Men displease Did they Rebel as bless'd with too much Ease To think to murder Pan it was so base That time it self can ne're the Fact erase Wild Horror all the Plain does spread around And Kids with Grief lie trembling on the ground Look Daphnis on that Lamb its Legs how small And yonder Goat as vex'd kicks down the Pail Da. Menalcas now thy charming tongue surcease And Juno to my lab'ring breast give ease On that curs'd Day sure Phaebus will not rise To drive his Chariot thro' the Eastern Skies But all the Heav'ns will Dark and gloomy be E're yet dim Chaos did begin to see Me. Then tender Swain let 's walk to yonder shade Where Battus Pip'd unto the Spartan Maid Or let us now remove to yonder Grove Where Venus us'd to toy and sport with Love Tuning my Layes under an Oak I 'le sing The Noblest of the Swains a Godlike King Da. Nature in ev'ry Dress appears serene Sweet are the Flow'rs and charming is the Green Than in this Grove not things more peaceful were When first the World became the Tillers Care Here in this shade the Birds and Springs conspire To warm thy thought and raise the Muses fire Tune then thy charming Layes begin thy Song My liftning Ear depends upon thy Tongue Me. O Pow'r Divine assist me whilst I sing A Royal Hero and a Godlike King Here in the bless'd Arcadian Land doth flow What Heav'n in Canaan did on Man bestow Honey and Milk we in abundance have Lavish of Natures gifts yet none can save Of every thing an affluence here is That either charms the Eye or raises Bliss The Goddess Ceres here doth shew her Face And with her Presence all our Fields does grace Woman Mankind's Delight and Heaven's chief care Than in Arcadia there are none more fair Divine their Necks and lovely is their Hair Streams of fresh Pleasures w' in Arcadia had Nor cou'd we ought distinguish here was bad Nature did all her Beauteous Charmes display Still was the Night serene the blisful Day While we on Mossy Bank supinely lay Yet ah too soon this happy scene withdrew And Priests did all our former woes renew For then upon the Throne a King did