Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A19907
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The muses sacrifice
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Davies, John, 1565?-1618.
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1612
(1612)
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STC 6338; ESTC S316
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141,411
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370
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note mine humble suite O heare me in thy Righteousnesse which heares All those that mourne although they still be mute And into Iudgement enter not O Lord with me fraile man for I nor none beside Because of sinne which we haue all incurr'd in thy cleare sight shall then be iustifide For th' enemie the Fiend our common Foe hath long pursu'd my Soule that flesh misse-led My Life in Earth his Fury hath brought low and hid the same in darknesse with the dead My Spirit therefore is vext my Minde and Heart are greatly troubled yet I minded still Thy dayes of old thy Workes and thy Desert which did my Muse with Ioy and Wonder fill My hands to thee haue still out-stretched bin my Soule that thirsts as earth that water wants For drops of grace to quench her flames of sinne I lift to thee the while for grace she pants Then kindest Lord with speede attend my cryes because my fainting spirit hath failed me Auert not from me thy conuerting Eyes lest I be like to those that burying be And in the dawning of the long'd-for Day the Day when Iustice Sonne shall Comfort giue Let me the voyce of mercy heare I pray sith still I hope that thou wilt me relieue And sith so many Heads so many Wayes are said to lead to thee by Heads of Sects Shew me the Way that straight to thee conueyes sith my poore Soule both thee and it affects And from my Foes preserue me weakling still to thee alone I flye in all distresse Then teach me to performe thy blessed Will for thou art onely all my blessednesse Thy Spirit that cannot erre nor yet deceiue shall bring me to the Land that Iustice beares And for thy Names sake thou shalt me receiue according to thy grace that neuer weares From Trouble thou shalt bring my Soule to rest and through thy Mercy shalt destroy my Foes Yea all annoy that doe my Soule molest sith as thy Seruant I on thee repose To God the Father Sonne and Holy Ghost three Persons and one God all glory be As it was is and shall be in each Coast thoughout all worlds in all eternitie FINIS RIGHTS OF THE LIVING AND THE DEAD Being A proper Appendix to the precedent Meditations OBIT-RIGHTS A Funerall Elegie on the death of the most vertuous and no lesse louely M irs Elizabeth Dutton eldest Daughter of the Worthy and generally beloued Sir Thomas Egerton Knight eldest Sonne to the right Honorable Thomas Lord Elesmere Lord Chancellor of England which Elizabeth was at the age of eleuen yeeres married to Iohn Dutton of the age of fifteene yeeres Sonne and Heyre of Thomas Dutton of Dutton in the Countie of Chester Esquier which Iohn deceased about the age of seauenteene yeeres and left the said Elizabeth a Virgin-Widow who so liued till shee died the first of October at the age of six teene yeeres and a halfe in Anno 1611. A Virgin Wife and Widow three that One Held rarely perfect in like Vnion Incites my Muse nay more doth her coÌ„strain To empt my Pen of Praise of Wit my Braine In her deserued honor she whose all Was nought but good yet so as we may call That good but nought and iustly if the same Giue not her goodnesse glory more than fame A Maide in whom Virginitie gaue place Though most exact to Modestie and Grace A Wife who like old Iosephs blessed Bride Though wedded but vnbedded till she dide Yet from her came on her by Grace begot Faith Feare and Dutie in a True-loue knot Till his decease to whom these three she bare And after for him nurst them still with care She liu'd a Widow but t' was hard to know Whether she liu'd or dide when she was so Sith when she lost her Pheare she lost her Breath For Turtle-like she mourn'd and droupt to death But while t' was losing she such Patience wanne By his Death mortifide as she beganne Before her end her Heau'n on Earth thereby In hope to liue with Him when Life should die So in her Patience she her Soule possest Her God in whom her Soule with his did rest Yet rested so that still vnseene she mou'd to both deuoutly whom so much she lou'd Poets can shape of things that grace forsakes Farre rarer things than grace or nature makes But let all Poets all their Arte vnite To fable praise the morall is her right Nature profusely had on her bestow'd Borrowing of grace more grace then e'er she ow'd And grace as enuying Natures Gifts so rare Vnlockt the Heau'ns where all her Treasures are And showr'd them downe so on this deerest Maide As she for worth an Angell should haue waide Wit for her worth can ne'er hiperbolize Much lesse a Poet in it Poetize Sith what or Wit or Poetry can praise With their best Arte was found in her then raise Her vp my Muse ere she be rais'd at last And her enthrone in glory high as fast That when the Virgin whom all Virgins blesse Shall for her graces see her gloriousnesse In Heau'n and Earth she may as worthy her Enbozome her or fixe her in a Starre Whose Name and Fame while mortall Virgins liue To them with hers may Light and Vertue giue For this her Soule still labour'd to be gone T'returne her Errand of Creation As fiery Matter working in a Cloud Breakes through for want of Matter it to shrowde So Soules with stirring much are said to fire The best Complexions and so home retire But Sicknesse ah too sweet-lipt suckt her Bloud That she had none to fire in likelihood And so her vitall-flame vnnourished Her Soule through coldnesse left her body dead A short life made her Virgin Widow Wife But well she lâ—u'd which is the Well of life This old World was vnworthy such a Iemme Therefore she shines in new Ierusalem I best can witnesse how her time she spent Who taught her hand to shew her hearts entent Then may I best renowne for knowne desert The Pupill of my Hand that had my Heart Thou hadst my Heart deare Pupill sith in thee Was all that might intirely master me And did my Pow'r but equall halfe my Will Laura should be thy Foile for I by skill Would set thee so aboue her that thy light With poynant Beames should thrust through Earth and Night For when Formositie and Vertue striue In one sole Subiect for Prerogatiue That Subiects praise must raigne all Tearmes aboue In height of Glory Memory and Loue The Grand-sire of thy Flesh in Earth's renown'd And thy spirits Grand-sire King of Heau'n is crown'd Thou liuing then as comming from such Sires Our Songs must answere the Celestiall Quires That chant the praise of Vertue in their King In whom thou art then we on earth must sing Thy praise in his sith his all praise containes So thine in his eternall glory gaines To thee then sing I as I sing of Thee Who art sole Base of this high Harmony For knowing Tombes haue ends as
well And while I liue I le be the leading-Bell That shall thy lowdest Peales of prayses ring Which in the Clouds shall ne'er leaue ecchoing Or be the Trumpet of thy Fame to fill Th' Aetheriall Lofts with Straines more lofty still That when Times wings his Funerall flame consumes Thy Fame shall soare with faire vnsinged Plumes An Epitaph on the death of the right vertuous Lady Liegh sole Daughter of the same right Honourable Lord Elesmere Lord Chancellor of England which Lady deceased the third day of Aprill Anno Dom. 1612. HEre dead shee lies who while aliue she was was Graces Inne Wits Home and Vertues Rest Whose WORTH was of true Worthinesse a Masse yet well proportion'd for her humble Brest A Wise and Mother as it 's hard to say whose losse was great'st her childrens or her phoares To eyther wisely kinde to each a stay that made one loue the other loue and feare To her all-honour'd Sire she was as deare as she was vertuous which was as the bloud In his Hearts Center which to him is neare yet dearer held his flesh in one so good Who dide as liue she did in grace and peace more laden with good-deeds then idle-dayes Leauing her worth for worthinesse increase for Wiues vnborne to imitate and praise Who had at once two Husbands yet she liu'd of Wisely truth a constant Paragon One Husband heauenly was who hath depriu'd the Earthly of her for himselfe alone Yet yer he had her bought her with his Bloud But with her bought a World of Womanhood Then maugre Time Death these Lines tho weake May leade all Times all good of her to speake Here Muse now close the Paper-tombes of these Two vertuous Soules and Bodyes Aunt and Neece with this A good Name is better then a good Ointment and the day of death then the day that one is borne Eccles. 7.3 The Picture of an happy Man HOw blest is he though euer crost that can all Crosses Blessings make That findes himselfe ere he be lost and lose that found for Vertues sake Yea blest is he in life and death that feares not Death nor loues this Life That sets his Will his Wit beneath and hath continuall peace in strife That striueth but with fraile-Desire desiring nothing that is ill That rules his Soule by Reasons Squire and workes by Wisedomes Compasse still That nought obserues but what preserues his minde and body from offence That neyther Courts nor Seasons serues and learnes without experience That hath a Name as free from blot as Vertues Brow or as his life Is from the least suspect or spot although he liues without a Wife That doth in spight of all debate possesse his Soule in Patience And pray in loue for all that hate and hate but what doth giue Offence Whose Soule is like a Sea too still that rests though mou'd yet mou'd at least With loue and hate of good and ill to whaft the Minde the more to Rest. That singly doth and doubles not but is the same he seemes and is Still simply so and yet no Sot but yet not knowing ought amisse That neuer Sinne concealed keepes but shewes the same to God or moe Then euer for it sighes and weepes and ioyes in Soule for grieuing so That by himselfe doth others mete and of himselfe still meekely deemes That neuer sate in Scorners Seate but as himselfe the worst esteemes That loues his body for his Soule Soule for his Minde his Minde for God God for himselfe and doth controule CONTENT if It with him be odde That to his Soule his Sense subdues his Soule to Reas'n and Reas'n to Faith That Vice in Vertues shape eschewes and both by Wisedome rightly waigt'h That rests in action acting nought but what is good in deed and shew That seekes but God within his thought and thinkes but God to loue and know That all vnseene sees All like Him and makes good vse of what he sees That notes the tracts and trickes of Time and flees with th' one the other flees That liues too low for Enuies lookes and yet too high for loth'd Contempt Who makes his Friends Good-men and Bookes and nought without them doth attempt That liues as dying liuing yet in death for life he hath in hope As far from State as sinne and debt of happie life the meanes and scope That feares no frownes nor cares for fawnes of Fortunes fauorits or foes That neither checkes with Kings nor Pawnes and yet still winnes what Checkers lose That euer liues a light to All though oft obscured like the Sunne And though his Fortunes be but small yet Fortune doth not seeke nor shunne That neuer lookes but grace to finde nor seekes for knowledge to be knowne That makes a Kingdome of his Minde wherein with God he raignes alone This Man is great with little state Lord of the World Epitomiz'd Who with staid Front out-faceth Fate and being emptie is suffic'd Or is suffic'd with little sith at least He makes his Conscience a continuall Feast This Life is but Death THogh Fire by warmth cheers life great heat brings death though good Aire life detaines bad life defines Though Water stayes our thirst it stops our breath though fruitfull Earth doth feede the barren pines Too-much o'er-fils too-little feebles life Wealth wants not Cares Want wants all but Cares Solenesse brings sadnesse Company but strife and sodaine Ioyes doe kill as well as feares Meane mirth is rationall extreame is mad no good so good but here it 's mixt with ill Nay too much goodnesse is exceeding bad yea bad if blinde it be is true Good-will And saue the High'st our highest gaine is losse Then life 's but death where al things are so crosse True Wealth THat Grace that neyther wonders grieues nor ioyes at Fortunes vtmost seeking but to finde What Bounty still in action best imployes nor wailes the want that beggers not the Minde That neyther grieuing sighes nor ioying sings that shines most glorious in most gloomy dayes Pleas'd with the state her owne endeuour brings that droupes not with defame nor swels with praise That scornes Disdaine disdaining nought but vice and Greatnesse rates by Goodnesse doing nought But good for ill and that for auarice of goodnesse onely by her onely sought That Time and Wealth well spent doth not deplore This is that Wealth without which Wealth is poore An Angel-like Man HE which prouokt endures as borne to beare and lookes alike in greatest weale and woe That so loues good that ill he nought doth feare and ebbes in Minde when Fortunes most doe slow That bounds Desire with lesse than he enioyes for onely nothing's lesse then Nature needes That holds all Vertues deare all else but toyes and meekely scowres Prides rust from his bright deeds That 's better than hee seemes yet seemes the best but without scandall seekes to seeme the worst That quell'd with Crosses thinkes him highly blest and for the Blisse of all would dye accurst In