Selected quad for the lemma: kingdom_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
kingdom_n	day_n	house_n	lord_n	2,312	5	3.5839	3	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A29640	Lachrymæ musarum The tears of the muses : exprest in elegies / written by divers persons of nobility and worth upon the death of the most hopefull, Henry Lord Hastings ... ; collected and set forth by R.B.	Brome, Richard, d. 1652?; Dryden, John, 1631-1700.	1649 (1649)	Wing B4876; ESTC R2243	29,474	101

then others and Had all those rebel-Passions 〈◊〉 command Upon a loss so heavie as yours is Some Niobe had been a stone by this And we might plain have read her discontent On her still weeping Marble-monument Madame you shame the very Stoicks who But talkt of those brave matters which you do They could boast much and well discourse upon The patient suffering of affliction But when it came to th' point they ne'er came nie This acting part of your Philosophie But 't is no wonder that a Stoick you Out-strip I 'd see a Christian thus much do Shew me a Christian that a Cross will take So heavie freely for his Iesus sake Or that shall be presented with a Cup So bitter and willingly shall drink it up Well I had thought in point of suffring no-man Could me have stript but now I yeeld t'a woman And Madame this I am resolv'd upon Your heart is full of Grace or made of Stone FRANCIS STANDISH An ELEGIE Upon the death of HENRY Lord HASTINGS the onely Son and Heir of the Right Honorable FERDINANDO Earl of Huntingdon Deceasing immediately before the day designed for his Marriage FOrbear forbear Great house of Huntingdon T' engross this Grief as if 't were all your own The Kingdom has a share and every Eye Claims priviledge to weep his Elegie The Mirrour of our Age Lord Hastings dead And in his Urn our hopes thus buried And shall not we come in who share i' th' smart In your sad consort to lament our part We must or if that language be you say Rude and uncivil we intreat we may Alas our griefs swell high whilst inward pent They 'll burst our hearts unless we give them vent For pity then if not to spare your eyes Let our tears joyn to mourn his Obsequies Sweet souls alas when we have wept our fill You 'll finde enough of tears for you left still But stay What voice was that Methinks I hear My better Angel whisp'ring in my ear Words of another strain which purer are Then what my Carnal Muse suggesteth far What though our loss be great so great that none In our Age has exceeded it but One Yet this is not the way t' express our Pieties By making large Alembecks of our Eyes The greater our loss is the more 's his gains And whom our eyes think dead our hearts know A Saint in heaven who being there inthron'd reigns How can he take it here to be bemoan'd Away then with these Pagan Rites and be More Christian-like in your Solemnity And know he celebrates his Fun'ral best Who comes unto 't as to a Nuptial-feast And truely 't is his Nuptial-feast indeed Not that which Man meant but which God decreed A Marriage fit for him and in my sence Most sutable unto his Innocence A Marriage with the Lamb who took his sin First quite away from him and then took Him Why should we mourn then how can it but please us When young Lord Hastings married to his Iesus FRA. STANDISH On the incomparable Lord HASTINGS An ELEGIE TO speak thy Praises or our Sorrows now Are both impossible Alone they know Exalted Soul thy worth who now above Converse with thee by Intellect and Love Grief onely and dumb Admiration are The Legacies thou hast bequeath'd us here This onely woful Comfort 's left us now Our Misery 's compleat Fate knows not how Beyond this to inflict another wound They fear not falling that lie on the ground Not perfect Bankrupt was this Land till now Nor her sick lapsed desp'rate state below The hopes of all recovery till His fall We could not justly say we had lost All We could not say while he was yet alive Truth and Religion did not still survive There was a Church and Academy still All Vertue whilst he liv'd they could not kill Justice and Honour whatsoever 's good Was not yet fled from Earth to Heaven Still stood In him that Cypher for these many yeers Th' opprest and now quite ruin'd House of Peers All these not lost but outlaw'd did conspire To him as to their centre to retire But he is gone and now this carcase World Is into her first rude dark Chaos hurl'd Vertue and Knowledge now for Monsters go To grope out Truth henceforth how shall we do Or finde what 's Just or Sense To whom repair To let us know those things have been not are Further then him before you need not move To learn the Placits of the a Porch or Grove Or had you pleased to consult the Sprite Of the deep b Samian or c Stagyrite d Cordova's Sage or e him that did renown The scarce-before-him-known f Boeotian Town Rome Athens Sybils Oracles could teach Nothing not comprehended in his reach Was none so hopeful Instrument as he The savage World t' reduce from Levity Purge and restore our Manners and call home Civility to barb'rous Christendome For this great Work he furnisht was like those Upon whose sacred heads did once repose In shape of parted Tongues celestial Fire What they infused had he did acquire Unless we justly make a doubt wheth'r He At Eighteen could in full possession be Without a Miracle of all Tongues one Whereof to purchase asks an Age alone Him in 's own Language might have heard indite The Swarthy Arab or the Elamite What Athens heard or Solyma or Rome Of old that from his tongue did flowing come He that now drinks of Tyber or of Po Utters not that word that he did not know No more doth he that tastes the Streams of Sceine Or those of Celtica or Aquitain He was indeed a Miracle and we That Miracles are ceas'd may now agree How could we hope t' enjoy him being one Whose new profane Opinion says There 's none Besides this our own wicked Merits might Instruct us 'Twixt our Darkness and his Light There could not be a long Communion In vain therefore alas did we go on To light his Nuptial-Tapers and invoke Iuno and Hymen and the air to choke With ecchoing Epithalms the whilst above Th' Angelick Quire enflamed with his love Court him from us to those Celestial Bowers As fitting for their Consort and not ours So unto Heaven our thoughts being fixt on Clay In 's Fever's fiery Chariot he takes way The weeks first day sets forth and six days done As God had his his Sabbath he begun Thrice happie Soul whose Work and Labour gone Holds with thy Maker's such proportion Now whether he a Constellation be Intelligence or Tut'lar Deity Is hid from us 'T is great'st part of our cross Nothing of him to know or feel but 's loss Which though we could not read in leaves of Fate Thy Tow'rs O Ashby did prognosticate Which fell the dutious ushers to his fall There was no further use of them at all Since he must fall for whose sake they had stood Not be at all as to no end 's as good This these Prophetick Buildings did