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	king_n	time_n	18,544	5	3.5068	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A08813	Saint Bernards vision. Or, A briefe discourse (dialogue-wise) betweene the soule and the body of a damned man newly deceased laying open the faults of each other: With a speech of the divels in hell. To the tune of, Fortune my foe.; Noctis sub silentio tempore brumali. English.	Bernard, of Clairvaux, Saint, 1090 or 91-1153, attributed name.; Fulbert, Saint, Bishop of Chartres, ca. 960-1028, attributed name.	1640 (1640)	STC 1910; ESTC S115289	2,703	2

Saint Bernards Vision OR A briefe Discourse Dialogue-wise betweene the Soule and the Body of a damned man newly deceased laying open the faults of each other With a speech of the Divels in Hell To the Tune of Fortune my Foe The Writer speaketh AS I lay slumbring in my Bed one Night A fearefull Vision did me fore affright Me though I saw a Soule departed late By it the Body in a poore estate Wailing with sighes the Soule aloud did cry Vpon the Body in the Coffin by And thus the Soule to it did make her moane With grievous sobs and many a bitter groane The Soule speaketh O sinfull Flesh which now so low doth lye Whom yesterday the World estéem'd so hye It was but yesterday the World was thine Thy Sunne is set which yesterday did shine Where is that Traine that did attend on thée Where is thy Mirth where is thy Iollitie Where are thy sumptuous Buildings and thy Treasure Thy pleasant Walks in which thou took'st such pleasure Gone is thy Traine thy Mirth to mourning turn'd Thou in a Coffin in thy Shrine art Vrn'd For thy rich Clothes thou hast a Winding-shéet Thy high-built Roofe now with thy Nose doth méet But I poore Soule was fram'd a noble creature In likenesse to my God of heavenly feature But by thy sinne whil'st we on Earth aboade I am made fouler than a loathsome Toade O wretched Flesh with me that art forlorne That well may'st wish thou never hadst bin borne Thou never would'st to any good agrée For which we evermore shall damned bée I am and must forever be in paine No tongue can tell the torment I sustaine Both thou and I we must descend to Hell ●●ere we in frying flames for aye must dwell It was thy Pride Deceit and Luxurie Hath brought these torments both on me and thée Thy Wife thy Children Friends which thou didst trust Doth loath thy Carcas lying in the Dust The Booke of God which is both true and sure Witnesse at large what sinnes shall endure Thou that within thy Bed of Earth art layd Arise and answer to these things I sayd The Body answereth I know thée well my Soule which from me fled Which left my Body senselesse cold and dead Cease then to say the fault was all in mée When I will prove the fault was most in thée Thou say'st that I have led thée oft astray And from well-doing drawne thée quite away But if the Flesh the Spirits power can move The fault is thine as I will plainly prove God you doe know created thée most faire And of Celestiall knowledge gave you share I was your servant form'd of Durt and Clay You to command and I for to obay 'T was in your power for to restraine my will And not to let me doe those things were ill The Bodies workes be from the Souse derived And by the Soule the Body should be guided The Body of it selfe none ill hath knowne If I did what thou bidst the guilt 's thine owne For without thée the Body resteth dead The Soule commands it rests upon thy head So to conclude thy guilt excéedeth mine Oh how the wormes doe teare me in my Shrine And therefore fare thou well poore sinfull Soule Whose trespasses passe mine though they are foule The second part To the same tune The Soule answereth MOst wretched Flesh which in thy time of life Wast foolish idle vaine and full of strife Though of my substance thou didst speake to me I doe confesse I should have bridled thée But thou through love of pleasure foule and ill Still me resisted and would have thy will When I would thée O Body have control'd Straight the worlds vanities did thée with-hold So thou of me didst get the upper hand Inthralling mée in worldly pleasures band That thou and I eternall shall be drown'd In Hell when glorious Saints in Heaven are crown'd But flatt'ring fancies did thy mind so please Thou never thought to dye till death did seaze This was thy fault and cursed is our fate Which we repent but now alas too late The Body speaketh Oh now I weep being scourg'd with mine owne rod Wée both stand guilty 'fore the face of God Both are in fault and yet not equally The greatest burthen Soule on thée doth lye No wit so meane but this for truth it knowes That where most gifts of vertue God bestowes There most is due and ought repayed bée And unto this there 's none but will agrée But foolishly thou yéeldedst unto mée And to my vaine desires didst soone agrée But oh I know that at the latter houre Both thou and I shall find a death most soure I greatly feare an everlasting fire Yet one thing more of thée I doe desire Hast thou béen yet amongst the fiends of Hell Is no hope left that we with Christ may dwell The Soule answereth Fond flesh remember Dives was denay'd When for one drop of water so he pray'd Thy question senslesse Body wanteth reason Redemption now is hopelesse out of season Vile Body goe and rot in bed of Clay Vntill the great and generall Iudgement day Then shalt thou rise and be with me condemn'd To Hells hot lake for ever without end So fare thou well I must no longer stay Harke how the fiends of Hell call mée away The losse of Heavenly ioyes tormenteth mée More than all tortures that in Hell can be The Divells speake Ho are you come whom we expected long Now we will make you sing another song Howling and yelling still shall be your note And molten lead be powred downe your throat Such horror wée doe on our servants load Now thou art worse than is the crawling Toad Ten thousand thousand torments thou shalt bide When thou in flaming Sulphure shalt be fride Thou art a souldier of our campe enrol'd Never henceforth shalt thou the light behold The paines prepard for thée no tongue can tell Welcome O welcome to the pit of Hell The Writer speaketh At this the groaning Soule did weepe most sore And then the fiends with ioy did laugh and roare These Divells séem'd more blacke than pitch or night Whose horrid shapes did sorely me affright Sharpe steely forkes each in his hand did beare Tusked their teeth like crooked mattocks were Fire and Brimstone then they breathed out And from their nostrils Snakes crawl'd round about Foule filthy hornes on their blacke browes they wore Their nayles were like the tushes of a Bore Those fiends in chaines fast bound this wretched Soule And drag'd him in who grievously did howle Then straight me thought appeared to my sight A beautious young man cloathed all in white His face did shine most glorious to behold Wings like the Raynebow and his hayre like Gold With a sweet voyce All haile all haile quoth he Arise and write what thou didst heare and sée Most heavenly musicke séemed then to play And in a cloud he vanisht quite away Awaking straight I tooke my pen in hand To write these lines the yong man did command And so into the world abroad it sent That each good Christian may in time repent Then let us feare the Lord both night and day Preserve our Soules and Bodies wée thee pray Grant that we may so run this mortall race That wée in Heaven may have a resting place Preserve the King the Queene and Progeny The Clergy Councell and Nobility Preserve our soules O Lord we doe thée pray Amen with me let all good Christians say FINIS Printed at London for I. Wright dwelling in Gilt-spur street