Selected quad for the lemma: soul_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
soul_n	fruitful_a	put_v	zone_n	18	3	12.4765	5	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A34930	Steps to the temple sacred poems, with other delights of the muses / by Richard Crashaw ...	Crashaw, Richard, 1613?-1649.	1646 (1646)	Wing C6836; ESTC R13298	53,140	154

Bee posed with the maturest feares Man trembles at wee straight shall find Love knowes no nonage nor the mind T is love not yeares or Limbes that can Make the martyr or the man Love toucht her heart and loe it beats High and burnes with such brave heats Such thirst to dye as dare drinke up A thousand coled deaths in one cup. Good reason for shee breaths all fire Her weake breast heaves with strong desire Of what shee may with fruitlesse wishes Seeke for amongst her mothers kisses Since t is not to bee had at home Shee l travell to a martyrdome No home for her confesses shee But where shee may A martyr bee Shee l to the Moores and trade with them For this unvalued Diadem Shee offers them her dearest breath With Christs name ●nt in change for death Shee l bargain with them and will give Them God and teach them how to live In him or if they this denye For him shee l teach them how to dye So shall shee leave amongst them sowne Her Lords blood or at lest her owne Farewell then all the world adeiu Teresa is no more for you Farewell all pleasures sports and joyes Never till now esteemed toyes Farewell what ever deare may bee Mothers armes or fathers knee Farewell house and farwell home Shee s for the Moores and Martyrdome Sweet not so fast Loe thy faire spouse Whom thou seek'st with so swift vowes Calls thee back and bi●s thee como T' embrace a milder Martyrdome Blest powers forbid thy tender life Should bleed upon a barbarous knife Or some base hand have power to race Thy Breasts chast cabinet and uncase A soule kept there so sweet O no Wise heaven will never have it so Thou art Loves victim and must dye A death more misticall and high Into Loves hand thou shalt let fall A still surviving funerall His is the dart must make the death Whose stroake shall taste thy hallowed breath A dart thrice dipt in that rich Hame Which writes thy spowses radiant name Vpon the roofe of heaven where ay It shines and with a soveraigne ray Beats bright upon the burning faces Of soules which in that names sweet graces Find everlasting smiles So rare So spirituall pure and faire Must be the immortall instrument Vpon whose choice point shall be spent A life so loved and that there bee Fit executioners for thee The fairest and the first borne Loves of fire Blest Seraphims shall leave their quire And turne Loves souldiers upon thee To exercise their Archerie O how oft shalt thou complaine Of a sweet and subtile paine Of intollerable joyes Of a death in which who dyes Loves his death and dyes againe And would for ever so be slaine And lives and dyes and knowes not why To live but that he still may dy How kindly will thy gentle heart Kisse the sweetly killing dart And close in his embraces keep Those delicious wounds that weep Balsome to heale themselves with thus When these thy deaths so numerous Shall all at last dye into one And melt thy soules sweet mansion Like a soft lumpe of Incense hasted By too hot a fire and wasted Into perfuming cloudes So fast Shalt thou exhale to heaven at last In a disolving sigh and then O what aske not the tongues of men Angells cannot tell suffice Thy selfe that feel thine owne full joyes And hold them fast for ever there So soone as thou shalt first appeare The moone of maiden starres thy white Mistresse attended by such bright Soules as thy shining selfe shall come And in her first rankes make thee roome Where mongst her snowy family Immortall wellcomes wait on thee O what delight when shee shall stand And teach thy Lipps heaven w●th her hand On which thou now maist to thy wishes Heap up thy consecrated kisses What joy shall seize thy soule when shee Bending her blessed eyes on thee Those second smiles of heaven shall dart Her mild rayes through thy melting heart Ange●ls thy old friends there shall greet thee Glad at their owne home now to meet thee All thy good workes which went before And waited for thee at the doore Shall owne thee there and all in one Weave a Constellation Of Crownes with which the King thy spouse Shall build up thy triumphant browes All thy old woes shall now smile on thee And thy pains set bright upon thee All thy sorrows here shall shine And thy sufferings bee devine Teares shall take comfort and turne Gems And wrongs repent to diadems Even thy deaths shall live and new Drosse the soule which late they slew Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scarres As keep account of the Lambes warres Those rare workes where thou shalt leave witt Loves noble history with witt Taught thee by none but him while here They feed our soules shall cloath thine there Each heavenly word by whose hid flame Our hard hearts shall strike fire the same Shall flourish on thy browes and bee Both fire to us and flame to thee Whose light shall live bright in thy face By glory in our hearts by grace Thou shalt looke round about and see Thousand of crownd soules throng to bee Themselves thy crowne sonnes of thy nowes The Virgin births with which thy spowse Made fruitfull thy faire soule Goe now And with them all about thee bow To him put on heel say put on My Rosy Love that thy rich Zone Sparkeling with the sacred Hames Of thousand soules whose happy names Heaven keeps upon thy score thy bright Life brought them first to kisse the light That kindled them to starres and so Thou with the Lambe thy Lord shall goe And where so e're hee sitts his white Steps walke with him those wayes of Light Which who in death would live to see Must learne in life to dye like thee An Apologie for the precedent Hymne THus have I back againe to thy bright name Faire sea of holy fires transfused the flame I tooke from reading thee 't is to thy wrong I know that in my weak and worthlesse song Thou here art set to shine where thy full day Scarce dawnes ô pardon if I dare to say Thine own deare books are guilty for from thence I learnt to know that Love is eloquence That heavenly maxim gave me heart to try If what to other tongues is tun'd so high Thy praise might not speak English too forbid by all thy mysteries that there lye hid Forbid it mighty Love let no fond hate Of names and words so farre prejudicate Soules are not Spaniards too one frendly flood Of Baptisme blends them all into one blood Christs Faith makes but one body of all soules And loves that bodies soule no Law controules Our free trafick for heaven we may maintaine Peace sure with piety though it dwell in Spaine What soule soever in any Language can Speake heaven like hers is my soules country-man O 't is not Spanish but 't is heaven she speakes 'T is heaven that lies in ambush there and