Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
lord_n	day_n	great_a	holy_a	12,790	5	4.8317	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
B07946	The black bastel, or, A lamentation in name of the kirk of Sscotland [sic], composed by M. Iames Melvil, when he was confined at Berwick anno 1611. ; Abridged by N..	Melville, James, 1556-1614.	1634 (1634)	STC 17815; ESTC S94163	5,380	26

shepheards stipēds were not half so large Such were prefer'd as rightly were affected But Dogs Swine if known were all rejected That lownes are now made Lords my heart it galls Worthies exiled the worst rewarded To see false knaves to governe sore me thralls The grave and godly not to be regarded I mocked am while they me thus have farded My gold in glasse my searge is turn'd in scarlet Not like my selfe but like to Babels harlot My crown and solid scepter they haue re●t me And drest me up in bruckle glasse and reed And rest the rights wherwith my king infe●t me Without the which my flock I cannot feed As it becometh with that heavenly bread They haue upon me laid this heavie yoke Of bite-sheep Bishops as I were a stocke This stūbling-block hath made frō heaven to tumble Some seeming stars made thē change their tongue My weakling hogs lambs are made to stūble Pastors to hear from point to point impugne That which before as truth from pulpits rung Are so offended that in their hearts they murn Cast so in doubt they know not where to turn Never was nation so solemnly sworne Vnder the pain of fearfull condemnation To discipline defend which now with scorn Is tramped under foot with fierce oppression For perfidie and for such foul defection I am so stonisht that I cannot stand For horrour but do tremble foot and hand Prayer and preaching are they not prophan'd And hireling pastors love to live at ease Sinceritie and zeale all where disdain'd Who is not luke-warm nick-nam'd is precise Or not conform unto the Kirks decrees Say libertines althogh their cause be wrongous The rod is rent wherwith before they dang us O that my people their apostasie Would yet perceive seek to God their guide Would yet confesse their vile hypocrisie Foresee at last what shall at length betide Flourish shall poperie in its greatest pride This is but doubt the foretold day of tryall Lord save thine own from filthy foule denyall Consider Lord with pittie my complaint My glore is gone I mourn for Elies fall And captive ark I wish my life were spent Gone are the great assemblies generall And few or none for their return do call The holy vessels are carri'd far away Wolfe hogge and dogge do what they please or may Me to comfort there is none of my lovers My friends are fled and look to me a farre Yea many of them are become reprovers They turn aside and glance on me a skarre And some like barking dogs begin to gnarre By craft by coin by Kings authoritie What pleases men is brought to passe on me I cry as if I felt some sharp incision When I beholde the present miserie I cry as if there were some great division Into my bones with pain to torment me Wilde Boars and swine dwell in the sanctuarie Even bastard Bishops worse than Moabites And more malicious than the Ammonites Like subtile foxes they have entred in Pretending me to honour and enrich Wild wolfs well wrapped in a weathers skin Have dealt by craft till I fell in the ditch Now on my belly they their tents do pitch And reign like lyons o're my sheepe and hogs Convert them Lord or let them die like dogs My candlestick is like to be removed For sins of Pastors and of Congregations Which thee ô Lord have unto wrath cōmoved And have brought on these fearfull desolations Pastors for gain and glore have left their stations Their wealth and honour is not worth a louse If Christ with grace be banisht from the house Are these the fruits O Scotland of thy field Are these the grapes of such a glorious vine Are these the captains cast away their shields Are these the souldiers vowd their lives to tine I am ashamed that they are call'd mine They feeble are I cannot say bewitched That thus do faint flee when scarsly touched It is well seen the dastard spirit of slaverie Hath made thee for to quite thy libertie It is well seen the craftie spirit of knaverie Hath spoyld thee of thy magnanimitie And brought thee under this servilitie No Kirk so glorious was in any land But now it seemes it builded was on sand Wilt thou return to beastly Babylon Wilt thou returne againe to Egypt land Wilt thou forsake thy holy mount Sion And joyne thy self unto that cursed band Shall Antichrist thus have the upper hand And all my faithfull servants never see Returne againe their late captivitie Then wish I Lord that thou shouldst make my head A running well whose waters ever grow Or that mine eyes were zetting spouts of lead Wherout my gushing tears may ever flow Yea some great floud where barges great may row That aye the earth may drink my tears as raine And aye my eyes may make it moist againe O that I had the wings of some faire Doue That I might flee forth to the wildernesse Lest I should seem their doings to approue Or beare with such professed wickednesse But since alas I can it not redresse I will go hence and hide me in some hill Or in some hole where I may weep my fill Nor will I cease from sighs O Lord each day Till of my pains thou have compassion And do repaire the breach and great decay Of Sion and her desolation And to my mourners send some consolation For I cannot permit an earthly King Or paughtie Prelates o're my head to reigne CONCLVSION Now certainly I thoght she would have spended Moe dayes and nights into her lamentation If that a fierie dragon had not ended Her mournfull moan in a most ugly fashion With horrible and fearfull perturbation He spouted flames and troubled all the aire That she noght spake and I could hear na mair But suddenly down with a mightie hoast Come MICHAEL with all his Angels cleare And beat him down for all his fearfull boast And carried thence with him his Ladie deare Sure I was put into a fellon feare I found me faint come home and yet the vision Made in my minde and heart a deep impression FINIS ANOTHER DEPLORING of late the case of our Kirk NO pleasure of my pleasures all can pleasant be to mee O dearest mother chast and all for shame and skaith of thee Mine eyes powre out salt streames of teares thy thraldome to deplore Mine heart doth bleed my lungs doe leap and all my bowels roare My Diademe of gold and gemmes which did thy head adorne Is thrown to ground in place whereof thou crowned art with thorne Thy costly chaines bestow'd on thee by thy deare Spouse and Lord Are quite bereft and thy faire neck now compast with a cord Thy royall robe embroidered faire and lined with Lucerve Is turn'd to sacke which to beholde doth make my flesh to sterve Thy bracelets rich which did of late decore thy comely hands Are rent from them and fettered fast into hard yron bands Thy golden rod chang'd in a reed by humane art compiled Thine holy Seales with papall stampe and Romish rites defiled Where faithfull preachers with Christs voyce were wont to sound before Now bite-sheepe wolves into thine eares with uncouth howlings roare Arminianisme and Papistrie now in thy pulpits sound Which like a daggers deadly dint doth cause my stomacke stound I and my mates sometime refresht with dew from heaven that rained Now poysoned are with these fowle dregges from Romish Bitch are strained Prince People Peeres and Prelates all awake awake in time With teares and sighes and sobbes striue still to expiate this crime Mr. ANDREW MELVINS EPIGRAMME upon the English Altar in Latine and translated CVr stant clausi Anglis libri duo regia in ara lumina caeca duo pellubra sicca duo Num sensum cultumque Dei tenet Anglia clausum Lumine caeca suo sorde sepulta sua Romano ac ritu dum regalem instruit 〈◊〉 Purpuream pingit religiosa lupam The same in English ON Kingly Chappels altar stand blinde candlestickes clos'd bookes Dry silver basins two of each Wherefore saith he who looks The minde and worship of the Lord Dorh England so keep close Blinde in her sight and buried in her filthinesse and drosse And while with Romane rites she doth Her kingly altar dresse Religiously the purpled whoore to trim she doth professe FINIS