Selected quad for the lemma: soul_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A08177
|
Atropoïon Delion, or, The death of Delia with the teares of her funerall. A poeticall excusiue discourse of our late Eliza. T.N. G.
|
Newton, Thomas, gent.
|
1603
(1603)
|
STC 18513.5; ESTC S110150
|
8,028
|
20
|
richest hands had made it Washers where she did lastly keepe her Court That time of last would it had neuer beene Then had my late-dead Delia lasted euer For one poore period of Time my Queene And me doth both in corporate and seuer Then woe to thee O Time for thou dost wrong vs That wouldst not lend vs time for her among vs TEMPVS I Was the Asâ—â—list that did attend her West to her vitall web her breathing scope I was that Time against my will did ende her And he that set the passelesse point of hope Along my Snaylish-iourney as I went I led my Delia in a dextrous hand And hauing traueld farre 〈◊〉 last a Saint My chast companion wish me take a stand Till she afresh had gotten breath and winde Now I that had no ioynts to rest nor bend Constraind to trauell left my Saint behind Els had we trauel'd to our iourneys end Thou fatall Clotho to my Sacred sweet Wouldst not afford her Time heart breath nor feet CLOTHO I Smoke the Distaffe in my bosome fast Whereon my Delias life was wrapt in Flaxe And duely sate till many yeeres were past My Distaffe bare and threed ful length was waxt Which threed when first my Sisters gan to spin it How fast they drew so fast it rol'd and knotted That more their care and paine was to begin it Doubting too timelesse breach to it allotted But hauing spun a full third part and more The other two it turned all to gold And spun not halfe so harsh as 't did before Till all at last vpon a knot it rold So Lachesis thy spinning and my paine Was but to put on Time and done in vaine LACHESIS ALas had I had substance whereupon to pull Or where withall to adde vnto her threed My fingers should not wearie nor mine eies be dull Nor night nor day from worke lay downe my head For rich was he that might but kisse her hand And much esteem'd that had her word of praise How proud was he might at her doore but stand And hold a Polax in her princely dayes Amongst these riches then how rich was I That had both twisting twining of the Clew No greater riches with my Delia die Then whom she lou'd must seeke their loue anew Oh had I Atropos Flax for her life Thou shouldst not only spin but breake thy knife ATROPOS SO Angel-like immortall-seeming Saint The tract of her most chast and prosperous life Did make the worldings thinke that scarce constraint Could bring her Threed once vnder yoake of knife I cannot chuse but mourne her death their griefe Shee did so loue them they no lesse deseru'd it And held her next to Joue on Earth for chiefe Her as her loue and loue as her preseru'd it If Clotho's Distaffe had been still supplide And Lachesis small Fingers spinning longer My Knife should still haue hung close by my side And neither edge nor poynt toucht threed nor wrongd her But Nature thou art she that would 't not giue Substaunce of life to make my Delia liue NATVRA WHen first my curious Pensill did purtraie The pure composed limbes of Delia's forme Mee thought my fingers striued to assaie A worke immortall not terrestriall borne And hauing brought it to a full perfection The very Gods descended downe to see Their next celestiall shape with such affection It pleas'd them so they would haue robbed mee But I more glorying in my labour taken Grew iealous of the same the whiles 't was mine Since when my worke it selfe had me forsaken The Gods haue seeted her in heauen to shine Death was the fatall messenger that crost her Shee hauing spent my strength I hauing lost her MORS I Was that fatall executioner That gaue that fatall stroke of Delia's death I also was that fatall Messenger That brought this fatall newes into the Earth I was that theefe which stole into her chamber And first that made her saint the Nymphes to wonder I was that traytour which did feare no danger For acting treason to be rent asunder Yet what I did was by the Gods agreed And not by me but by the Powers aboue her They not my dart had made your Delia bleed But for to make her know how they did loue her A Quier of Angels did discend beneathe To take her vp to heauen too good for earthe ANGELI CEase Nymphes with teares to ouercharge your eies For Delia weepes not now that she hath left ye Comfort your selues in earth for she in skies Comforted by them which late bereft ye So many yeeres the Gods did let ye keepe her In tender loue for to support your peace But being gone it naught auailes to weepe her Shee now enioyes a crowne of longer lease Let this suffice how looth she was to part So long as she had tongue hand eye or breath Till when our Quire of Angels tooke her heart Shee then bid welcome ioyes and farwell earth Where once ech soule his Delias soule shall see Crow'd in another kinde of Maiestie FAMA BRight heauens you that enioy our Delias soule And death with Death that causd our Ladies moorne That did the wisedome of our lords controule And striu'd against all Synthus power in scorne Know this that Fame immortall is on earth As you in heauen and will not loose her so You haue her substance I a God beneath Will keepe the substance of her life to shew I haue her shape drawne in as liuely die As if my Delia were her selfe in being And that 's her Delias selfe vnto my eye I need no other Delia for my seeing And yet me thinkes shee not in heauen essign'de So plaine I keepe her Trophey in my minde I Haue in writing Golden Pens to prayse her In datelesse Volumes of the siluer ayre The very stile so loftie high shall raise her That Time shall be too short to teare her haire Wherein shall first her Chastitie be writ As pure in Picture as it selfe was pure Next her Religion Loue her Arte and Wit So faire that Delias life may still endure Then Synthus thinke thou hast thy Delia euer The Heauens do keep her soule thou keep'st her life Which life I vow from thee shall neuer seuer Nor subiect bee to Fates Atropian knife Take this to wipe thy bleared eyes againe Her life is thine though Heauen her soule containe CASTIT AS AT length to Church I brought my Delia's Hearse Blindfolded for my eyes were blinde with crying And all a long the way in howling verse I sung a Dirge vnto her vtmost dying The Birdes aboue while I did sing beneath With heartlesse yeelping fil'd the siluer ayre Ne with a shriller Quier then Ion earth For all I sob'd I howl'd and rent my haire But then to helpe my Song my Delias Singers I meane her boyes new turn'd to Blacke from Red Like Lambs by Uthers nurs'd with Orpheus fingers Mixt teares with Notes to see her buried