Selected quad for the lemma: spirit_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
spirit_n	fire_n	ghost_n	holy_a	6,369	5	5.6726	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A08677	Publ [sic] Ovid. De tristibus: or Mour nefull [sic] elegies in five bookes: composed in his banishment, part at sea, and part at Tomos, a city of Pontus. Translated into English verse by Zachary Catlin, Mr. of Arts. Suffolke.; Tristia. English	Ovid, 43 B.C.-17 or 18 A.D.; Catlin, Zachary.	1639 (1639)	STC 18981; ESTC S113670	64,573	102

the ascent of many a stately staire VVhere stand in statues made of sorraine stone The fifty daughters of on● 2 〈…〉 Sire alone And there lye open to the publicke view 3 〈…〉 Learnings brave monuments both old and new Here I my brethren sought excepting those VVhich brought their Father to these endlesse woes But whilst in vaine I sought a little space The keeper thrust me from that sacred place Thence to the Temple I repaire that 's joynd Close to the Theater but cold welcome finde For from the common Libraries outward 4 〈…〉 yard Where learned Authors stand I am debard Our fathers fortune we his Sonnes inherit And suffer th' exise which himselfe did merit Casar pethaps when time allaies his mind Both unto us and him will prove more kind Subscribe ve Gods to this my earnest call But chief●ly Caes●r greatest God of all For to invoke the vulgar gods were vai●e Whose favour cannot fre● me from my paine Meane while fince publicke stations are deny'd me Let me within some private corner hide me And take me me●ne Plebeians in your hand Who 1 〈…〉 being repulsed doe confounded s●and ELEGIE 2. Our Poet here his exile doth deplore Argu. Desiring Death would ope its Iron doore WAs it my dest'ny then the Scythes to see Whose Zenith is the Northerne Axletree And would not you sweete Muses nor Apollo Helpe him who still your learned rites did follow Nor could my harmelesse verses me excuse And life more serious then my jesting muse But having suffered sore by sea and land I 'm now expos'd to Pontus frozen strand Yea I who still my selfe from cares withdrew Lov'd quiet case hard labour never knew Do now endore the very worst of ill And neither travell nor rough Seas can kill Yea and my mind holds out and still I find My body gathers hardnesse from my mind Whilst I was sayling towards mine exile I did with verse my feares and cares beguile My labou●d But to my journe yes end once being come The resting place of mine appointed doome I fell to teares which from mine eyes did slow L●ke waters running from the vernall snow Then Rome and house friends came fresh to mind And all the comforts I had left behind VVoes me that at the wofull gate o th' grave So oft I knocke yet can no entrance have O why have I so ●st escap●t the sword And raging tempests will no death a●●ord Ye gods that prove too constant in your ire And in revenge with Casar still conspire I pray you hasten on my lingring sate And cause my grave to ope her closed gate ELEGIE 3. Argu. He lets his wife his sicknesse understand And craveth buriall in his native land DEare Wife if thou cost all amazed stand My letter 's written with a strangers hand Know I am sicke in utmost parts and lye Exceeding doubtfull of recovery What comfort think'st thou can poore Ovid take Among these direfull Getes and Sauromates Whose nature doth not with this aire agree Nor doth their soyle or waters sute with me Mine house is poore God knowes my diet bad And for mine health no Physicke can be had No friend to comfort or by night or day With good discourse to passe the houres away But lying sicke in solitary wise My musing thoughts on many things devise But thou my dearest Wife within my brest The chiefest place dost hold above the rest For on thine absent name my tongue doth walke Of thee alone both night and day I talke Yea even when sicknesse doth distract my wits They say I talke of thee in raving fits Nay should I deadly faint and sound so sore That scarce hot water could my speech restore Yet knowing thou wert come I should revive Thy very presence would new vigour give But whilst I here in doubt of life doe lye Thou knowing nought perhaps liv'st merrily No no I am resolv'd that thou deare wife I being absent lead'st a mourners life Yet if my thread of life the fates have spun And that my terme of yeares I● almost 〈…〉 must shortly come Graunt me a dying man O Gods to have Within my native soyle a sorry grave Mine exile might till death have beene delaid Or sudden death my banishment have staid Oh happy death while I did upright stand Now must I perish in a forraigne land And must I thus farre off resigne my breath Where even the place addes sorrow to my death And languish thus on an unwonted bed Where none shall mourne over my dying head Nor yet thy teares upon my face may fall Which might my fleeting soule a while recall Nor may I make a will nor with sad cryes Some friendly hand close up my dying eyes But without funerall teares or honoured grave Vild barbarous earth shall this my carcase have This when thou hear'st thou 'lt be with griefe opprest And in great passion beate thy throbbing brest Stretching thine hands towards these parts in vaine Still calling on thy husbands empty name Yet spare to teare thy haire or cheekes for me Who am not now first tane away from thee Suppose me dead when I was bannisht first That was my first decease and farre the worst Yea rather if thou canst Rejoyce deare heart That death will end at once my tedious smart At least beare up thine heart this well thou maist Having beene so inur'd to evils past And would my soule might with my breath expire And no part might survive my funerall fire For if our spirits live when we are dead We hold the soule immortal According to Pythagoras holy read My Roman soule with Geticke ghosts must wander And 'mong those cruell spirits live a stranger Yet let my bones be laid in some small urne That after I am dead I may returne T is not forbidden this and though it were Her brothers corps the Theban bid interre Then in the Suburbs let them lye at rest With flowers and spices having first beene drest And grave these Verses plainely on my tombe That all may read them as they passe along Ovids Epitaph I NASO that erst wrote of wanton love Lve here interr'd my wit my bane did prove Thou that hast beene in Love and possest by Pray still that Naso's bones may softly lye This is enough for that my bookes will be Aly livelyer monument to posterity They harm'd me once yet will they raise my name And gaine their Authour an enduring fame Present thou at my herse due funeral Ritet And let thy teares my garland all bedight For though the fire my corpes to ashes burne Yet will thy love be 1 Pleasing gratefull to my urne I more would write but that my voyce is spent And tongue too dry to dictate what I ment Take then my dying farewell live in health Which he that sends to thee doth want himselfe ELEGIE 4. He doth advise his friend if he be wise Argu. The acquaintance of the mighty to despise MY