Selected quad for the lemma: world_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A10263
|
Hieroglyphikes of the life of man. Fra: Quarles
|
Quarles, Francis, 1592-1644.; Marshall, William, fl. 1617-1650, engraver.
|
1638
(1638)
|
STC 20548; ESTC S115518
|
13,910
|
66
|
what â—â—ve what confidence deserves so sweet a saying For their presence â—everence for their good will love for their tuition confidence EPIG 5. My flame art thou disturb'd diseas'd and driv'n To Death with stormes of griefe Poynt thou to heav'n One Angel there shall ease thee more alone Then thrice as many thousands of thy owne Tempus erit Will Marshall sculpsit To every thing there is an appointed time ECCLES 3. 1. Time Death Time BEhold the frailty of this slender snuffe Alas it hath not long to last Without the helpe of either Thiefe or puffe Her weakness knowes the way to wast Nature hath made her Substance apt enough To spend it selfe and spend too fast It needs the help of none That is so prone To lauish out untoucht and languish all alone Death 2. Time hold thy peace and shake thy slow pac'd Sand Thy idle Minits make no way Thy glass exceeds her how'r or else does stand I can not hold I can not stay Surcease thy pleading and enlarge my hand I surfet with too long delay This brisk this boldfac'd Light Does burne too bright Darkness adornes my throne my day is darkest night Time 3. Great Prince of darknesse hold thy needless hand Thy Captiv's fast and can not flee What arme can rescue Who can countermand What pow'r can set thy Pris'ner free Or if they could what close what forrein land Can hide that head that flees from Thee But if her harmeless light Offend thy sight What needst thou snatch at noone what will be thine at night Death 4. I have outstaid my patience My quick Trade Growes dull and makes too slow returne This long-liv'd det is due and should bin paid When first her flame began to burne But I have staid too long I have delayd To store my vast my craving Vrne My Patent gives me pow'r Each day each how'r To strike the Peasants thatch and shake the Princely Tow'r Time 5. Thou count'st too fast Thy Patent gives no Pow'â— Till Time shall please to say Amen Death Canst thou appoint my shaft Time Or thou my How'r Death T is I bid doe Time T is I bid When. Alas thou canst not make the poorest Flow'r To hang the drooping head till then Thy shafts can neither Kill Nor strike untill My power give them wings and pleasure arme thy will St. AUGUST Thou knowest not what Time he will come Wait alwaies that beâ—ause thou knowest not the time of his comming thou maiest be preâ—ared against the time he comes And for this perchance thou knowst not the Time because thou maiest be prepared against all times EPIG 6. Expect but feare not Death Death cannot Kill â—ill Time that first must seale her Patent will Wouldst thou live long Keepe Time in high esteeme Whom gone if thou canst not recall redeeme Nec sine nec Tecum Will Marshall sculpsit His light shall be dark and his candle shall be put out IOB 18. 6. VVHat ayles our Tapour Is her luster fled Or foyl'd What dire disaster bred This Change that thus she vailes her golden head 2. It was but very now she shin'd as faire As Venus starre Her glory might compare With Cynthia burnisht with her brothers haire 3. There was no Cave-begotten damp that mought Abuse her beames no wind that went about To breake her peace no Puffe to put her out 4. â—â—ft up thy wondring thoughts and thou shalt spye 〈◊〉 Cause will cleare thy doubts but cloud thine eye Subjects must vaile when as their Sov'raign's by 5. â—anst thou behold bright Phoebus and thy sight â—o whit impayr'd The object is too bright â—he weaker yeelds unto the stronger Light 6. â—reat God I am thy Tapour Thou my Sunne â—rom thee the Spring of Light my Light begun â—et if thy Light but Shine my light is done 7. 〈◊〉 thou withdraw thy Light my light will shine 〈◊〉 thine appeare how poore a light is mine â—y light is darkness if compar'd to thine 8 â—hy Sun-beames are too strong for my weake eye 〈◊〉 thou but shine how nothing Lord am I â—h who can see thy visage and not die 9. If intervening earth should make a night My wanton flame would then shine forth too bright My earth would ev'n presume t' eclipse thy Light 10 And if thy Light be shadow'd and mine fade If thine be dark and my dark light decayd I should be cloathed with a double shade 11. What shall I doe O what shall I desire What help can my distracted thoughts require That thus am wasting twixt a double Fire 12. In what a streight in what a streight am I Twixt two extreames how my rackt fortunes lie See I thy face or see it not I die 13. O let the steame of my Redeemers blood That breaths fro' my sick soule be made a Cloud T'interpose these Lights and be my shroud 14. Lord what am I or what 's the light I have May it but light my Ashes to their Grave And so from thence to Thee 't is all I crave 15. O make my Light that all the world may see Thy Glory by 't If not It seemes to me Honour enough to be put out by Thee O Light inaccessible in respect of which my light is utter darkness so reflect upon my weaknes that at all the world may behold thy strength O Majesty incomprehensible in respect of which my glory is meere shame so shine upon my misery that all the world may behold thy glory EPIG 7. Wilt thou complaine because thou art bereiv'n Of all thy light Wilt thou vie Lights with Heav'n Can thy bright eye not brooke the daily light Take heed I feare thou art a Child of night Nec Virtus obscurapetit Will Marshall sculpsit Let your light so shine that men seeing your good workes may glorifie your Father which is in Heaven MAT. 5. 16. VVAs it for this the breath of Heav'n was blowne Into the nostrils of this Heav'nly Creature Was it for this that sacred Three in One Conspir'd to make this Quintessence of Nature Did heav'nly Providence intend So rare a Fabrick for so poore an end 2. Was Man the highest Master-peece of Nature The curious Abstract of the whole Creation Whose soule was copied from his great Creator Made to give Light and set for Observation Ordain'd for this To spend his Light In a darke-Lanthorne Cloystred up in night 3. Tell me recluse Monastick can it be A disadvantage to thy beames to shine A thousand Tapours may gaine light from Thee Is thy Lightless or worse for lighting mine If wanting Light I stumble shall Thy darkness not be guilty of my fall 4. Why dost thou lurk so close Is it for feare Some busie eye should pry into thy flame And spie a Thiefe or else some blemish there Or being spy'd shrink'st thou thy head for shame Come come fond Tapour shine but cleare Thou needst not shrink for shame nor shroud for feare 5. Remember O remember thou wert set For men to see the Great
and feasts His hungry-whining guests The boxbill Ouzle and the dappled Thrush Like hungry Rivals meet at their beloved bush 3. And now the cold Autumnall dewes are seene To copwebbe every Greene And by the low-shorne Rowins doth appeare The fast-declining yeare The Sapless Branches d'off their summer Suits And waine their winter fruits And stormy blasts have forc'd the quaking Trees To wrap their trembling limbs in Suits of mossie Freeze 4. Our wasted Tapour now hath brought her light To the next dore to night Her sprightless flame grown great with snuffe does tuâ—â— Sad as her neighb'ring Vrne Her slender Inch that yet unspent remaines Lights but to further paines And in a silent language bids her guest Prepare his wearie limbs to take eternall Rest. 5. Now carkfull Age hath pitcht her painefull plough Vpon the furrow'd brow And snowie blasts of discontented Care Hath blancht the falling haire Suspitious envie mixt with jealous Spight Disturb's his wearie night He threatens youth with age And now alas He ownes not what he is but vaunts the Man he was 6. Gray haires peruse thy daies And let thy past Reade lectures to thy last Those hastie wings that hurri'd them away Will give these daies no Day The constant wheeles of Nature scorne to tyre Vntill her worke expire That blast that nipt thy youth will ruine Thee That hand that shooke the branch will quicklie strike the Tree St. CHRYS Gray hayres are honourable when the behaviour suits with gray hayres But when an ancient man hath childish manners he becomes more rediculous than a childe SEN. Thou art in vaine attained to old yeares that repeatest thy youthfulnesse EPIG 14. To the Youth Seest thou this good old man He represents Thy Future Thou his Preterperfect Tense Thou go'st to labour He prepares to Rest Thou break'st thy Fast He suppes Now which is best Plumbeus in terram Will Marshall sculpsit The dayes of our yeares are threescore yeares and ten PSAL. 90. 10. 1. SO have I seene th' illustrious Prince of Light Rising in glorie from his Crocean bed And trampling downe the horrid shades of night Advancing more and more his conq'ring head Pause first decline at length begin to shroud His fainting browes within a cole black cloud 2. So have I seene a well built Castle stand Vpon the Tiptoes of a lofty Hill Whose active pow'r commands both Sea and Land And curbs the pride of the Beleag'rers will At length her ag'd Foundation failes her trust And layes her tottring ruines in the Dust. 3. So have I seene the blazing Tapour shoot Her golden head into the feeble Ayre Whose shadow-gilding Ray spred round about Makes the foule face of black-brow'd darknesse faire Till at the length her wasting glory fades And leaves the night to her invet'rate shades 4. Ev'n so this little world of living Clay The pride of Nature glorified by Art Whom earth adores and all her hosts obay Ally'd to Heav'n by his Diviner part Triumphs a while then droops and then decaies And worne by Age Death cancells all his daies 5. That glorious Sun that whilom shone so bright Is now ev'n ravisht from our darkned eyes That sturdy Castle man'd with so much might Lyes now a Monument of her owne disguize That blazing Tapour that disdain'd the puffe Of troubled Ayre scarce ownes the name of Snuffe 6. Poore bedrid Man where is that glory now Thy Youth so vaunted Where that Maiesty Which sat enthron'd upon thy manly brow Where where that braving Arme that daring eye Those buxom tunes Those Bacchanalian Tones Those swelling veynes those marrow-flowing bones 7. Thy drooping Glory 's blurrd and prostrate lyes Grov'ling in dust And frightfull Horror now Sharpens the glaunces of thy gashfull eyes Whilst feare perplexes thy distracted brow Thy panting brest vents all her breath by groanes And Death enervs thy marrow-wasted bones 8. Thus Man that 's borne of woman can remaine But a short time His dayes are full of sorrow His life 's a penance and his death 's a paine Springs like a flow'r to day and fades to morrow His breath 's a bubble and his daies a Span. T is glorious misery to be borne a Man CYPR. When eyes are dimme eares deafe visage pale teeth decaied skin withered breath tainted pipes furred knees trembling hands fumbling feet fayling the sudden downefall of thy fleshly house is neare at hand St. AUGUST All vices wax old by Age Covetousness alone growes young EPIG 15. To the Infant What he doth spend in groanes thou spendst in teares Iudgment and strength 's alike in both your yeares Hee 's helpless so art thou What difference than Hee 's an old Infant Thou a young old Man THE END