Selected quad for the lemma: heaven_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
heaven_n	great_a	see_v	world_n	7,593	5	4.4143	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A04523	[Capystranus a metrical romance].		1515 (1515)	STC 14649; ESTC S106539	6,792	24

people slayne There the turke with his meyne Keped styll that noble cyte Durste no man hym with sayne Forty myle rounde aboute Durst no man by hym route Neyther on hyll ne playne The turke kepte the felde many a day Crysten people in the countray Of hym were dredde Isayne Where they myght ony crysten gete I tell you now withouten doute They lefte there lyfe to wedde All suffred dethe for Crystes sake That this turke myght ouertake But thus they for hym fledde Thereof herde a holy frere The werkes of the fendes fere And to Rome hym spedde Iohan capystranus the frere hyght I dare say he was goddes knyght An holy man was he To the pope anone he wanne Capystranus that holy man And kneled vpon his kne He sayd fader for crystes lone of heuen That made this worlde and dayes seuen Herken now to me There is a turke I vnderstande That brennes and slees goddes lande Grete dole it is to se The turke his purpose is I lete you were withouten mys To wynne all hungree Therfore fader put thy holy hande And helpe to warre goddes lande His true vycar yf thou be He brenneth chirches in euery place Crysten men gothe to deth a pace To beholde is grete pyte Now fader helpe with thy socoure For Maryes loue that swete floure Our hope is moche in the With two hondred this same daye To Grecuswyssyngburgh he toke the waye This is no scorne Many a thousande there shall dye If he wynne that ryall cytye All hungrye is forlorne I am the messynger of Ihesus Truely lorde it wyll be thus As I haue sayd beforne Therfore helpe with all thy myght For goddes loue for to fyght That was of Marye borne Than the pope sayd anone Good broder frere Ihon As I vnderstande Thou prechest goddes wordes wyde In the countree on euecy syde In many a dyuerse lande Thou knowest many a noble man Take a capytayne where thou can Whyder that he be free or bonde And as I am goddes bycar true This false turke his rese shall rue And therto my holy hande Now fader I thanke the hartely To chese a capytayne the bydde me Certayne without ony mys Now holy fader withouten layne This shall be my capytayne He sayd the pope ymys A baner of crystes pyssyon That mannes soule dyde redempcyon And brought them from payne to lyght Holowe it with thy hande The people may the better stande That vnder it dooth fyght This shall be my capytayne An other wolde I haue fayne That is thy bull of leed That all that vnder it dooth fyght For goddes loue moost of myght Euer in ony lande If it happen them to be slayne That theyr soules come neuer in payne After that they be deed The people sayd blyssed myght thou be A holy man I holde the I wyll do after thy rede Anone the baner was made and halowed The bull cealed and vp folded And the pardon of grace Delyuered it to the frere truely The people blyssed hym tymes thre And thus his leue he taketh Barefote he bare out of the toune The baner of crystes passyoune Towarde the turke he hasteth And preched goddes lawe as he yede And moche people to hym gan spede To gete theyr soules solace Grete golde and syluer was hym gyuen And euer he delte it euen Tho people that with hym yede So certaynly as I you saye All romayne for hym dyde praye And so it was grete nede Suche freres we haue to fewe Pray all we Cryste Ihesu To be his helpe and spede For of this I fynde a fytte Ferther and ye wyll sytte Herkyn and take good hede THis frere wente to Hungry And many men with hym truely That for our lorde dyde fyght To an vnyuersyte he toke the waye The gretest in Hungrye I dare well saye Gottauntas it hyght Out of the vnyuersyte there wente in fere Syxe and twenty M. with the frere Of relygyous men full ryght The moost partye was preestes I saye Eueryche preued hym that day That he was goddes knyght The frere with grete deuocyon Bare the baner of crystes passyon Amonge the people all Dysplayed abrode grete Ioye to se Men of dyuerse countre Fast to hym gan fall Thus passed forthe Capystranus And met with the good erle Obedyanus A captayne pryncypall Twenty thousande and mo Amonge them was but knyghtes two And thus men dooth them call Rycharde morpath a knyght of Englonde And syr Iohan Elacke I vnderstonde That was a turke before And now he is a curteys knyght I lete you wete and a wyght And stedfast in our lore Many a turke hath greued sore Theyr lyues they lefte behynde He hath made them hop heedles Many one withouten les Where he myght theym fynde There .xx. thousande met in fere With Obedyauns and the frere In helme and hauberke bryght To grecuswyssynburgh he toke the waye There the turke at syege laye With many a knyght Fourtene wekes the turke had ben there And put the crysten to moche fere To hym they had no myght Fyue C. gonnes he lete shote at ones Brake doune the walles with stones The wylde fyre lemed lyght To here it was grete wonder The noyse of gonnes moche lyke the thonder That was a frefull dynne The noyse was herde many a myle Obedyaunce the meane whyle Entred the towne within At .vi of the clocke the sothe to saye After noone on the Maudeleyne And neyther lesse ne mo And Capystranus good frere Ihon Assoyled our men euerychone To batayll or they dyde gone And cryed loude with voyce clere Lete vs fyght for our soupere In heuen is redy dyght Our baner shall I bere to daye And to Ihesu fast shall praye To spede vs in our ryght Anone they togyder mette Fyue M. deed withouten lette In helme and hauberke bryght Obedianus that noble man Slewe them fast that serued sathan Thorowe cryst theyr crownes had care All that he with his faucon hyt There was no salue I lette you wyt That euer myght hele that sore There was no turke that he with met But he had suche a buffet That he greued neuer crysten man more He was a doughty knyght The fals he felled for goddes ryght I praye god wele myght he fare Morpath and blacke Iohan That daye kylled turkes many one Certayne withouten lette There was none so good armoure That theyr dyntes myght endure Helme nor bryght basynet They hewe vpon the hethen on hye They fyre out of euery syde gan flye So boldely on they bette Many a turke there was cast Beten tyll the braynes brast Theyr maysters there they mette Many a. M. of preestes there was The turkes herde neuer suche a masse As they harde that daye Our preestes te deum songe The hethen fast downe they donge Then pax was put awaye There was scole maysters of the best Many of them were brought to rest That wolde not lere theyr lawe Thus our crysten people dyde fyght From .v. of the clocke