Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
lord_n	day_n	great_a	holy_a	12,790	5	4.8317	4	false

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A36573	Poems, by that most famous wit, William Drummond of Hawthornden; Poems. Selections	Drummond, William, 1585-1649.; Phillips, Edward, 1630-1696?	1656 (1656)	Wing D2202; ESTC R37307	89,708	228

our Death But Fathers Justice pleas'd Hell Death o'recome In triumph now thou risest from thy Tombe With Glories which past Sorrows countervaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile Hence humble sense and hence ye Guides of sense We now reach Heaven your weake intelligence And searching Pow'rs were in a flash made 〈◊〉 To learne from all Eternity that him The Father bred then that he here did come His Bearers Parent in a Virgins Wombe But then when sold betray'd crown'd scourg'd with Thorn Nail'd to a Tree all breathlesse bloudlesse torne Entomb'd him risen from a Grave to find Confounds your Cunning turnes like Moles you blind Death thou that heretofore still barren wast Nay didst each other B●rth eate up and waste Imperious hatefull pittilesse unjust Unpartiall equaller of all with dust Sterne Executioner of heavenly doome Made fruitfull now Lifes Mother art become A sweet reliefe of Cares the Soule molest An Harbinger to Glory Peace and Rest Put off thy mourning Weeds yeeld all thy Gall To dayly sinning Life proud of thy fall Assemble all thy Captives haste to rise And every Coarse in Earth-quakes where it lies Sound from each flowry Grave and rocky Jaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile The World that wanning late and faint did lie Applauding to our Joyes thy Victory To a young Prime Essayes to turne againe And as ere soyl'd with Sin yet to remaine Her chilling Agues she begins to misse All Blisse returning with the Lord of Blisse With greater light Heavens Temples opened shine Morns smiling rise Evens blushing do decline Clouds dappled glister boist'rous Winds are calme Soft Zephyres do the Fields with sighs embalme In silent calmes the Sea hath husht his Roares And with enamour'd Curles doth kisse the Shoares All-bearing Earth like a new-married Queene Her Beauties hightens in a Gown of Greene Perfumes the Aire her Meads are wrought with flow'rs In colours various figures smelling pow'rs Trees wanton in the Groves with leavy Locks Her H●lls enamell'd stand the Vales the Rocks Ring peales of Joy her Floods and pratling Brookes Stars liquid Mirrors with serpenting Crooks And whispering murmures sound unto the Maine The Golden Age returned is againe The honey People leave their golden Bow'rs And innocently prey on budding Flow'rs In gloomy Shades percht on the tender Sprayes The painted Singers fill the Aire with Layes Seas Floods Earth Aire all diversly do sound Yet all their diverse Notes hath but one ground Re-eccho'd here-down from Heavens azure Vaile Haile holy Victor greatest Victor haile O Day on which Deaths Adamantine Chaine The Lord did breake did ransack Satans Raigne And in triumphing Pompe his Trophees rear'd Be thou blest ever henceforth still endear'd With Name of his own Day the Law to Grace Types to their substance yeeld to thee give place The old New-Moons with all festivall Daies And what above the rest deserveth praise The reverend Sabaoth what could else they be Than golden Heraulds telling what by thee We should enjoy Shades past now shine thou cleare And henceforth be thou Empresse of the yeare This Glory of thy Sisters Sex to win From worke on thee as other Daies from Sin That Mankind shall forbeare in every place The Prince of Planets warmeth in his race And far beyond his paths in frozen Climes And may thou be so blest to out-date Times That when Heavens Quire shall blaze in Accents loud The many Mercies of their soveraigne Good How he on thee did Sin Death Hell destroy It may be still the Burthen of their Joy BEneath a sable vaile and Shadows deep Of unaccessible and dimming light In silence Ebon clouds more black than Night The Worlds great Mind his secrets hid doth keep Through those thick Mists when any mortall Wight Aspires with halting pace and Eyes that weep To pry and in his Mysteries to creep With Thunders he and Lightnings blasts their Sight O Sun invisible that dost abide Within thy bright abysmes most faire most darke Where with thy proper Raies thou dost thee hide O ever-shining never full-seene marke To guide me in Lifes Night thy light me show The more I search of thee the lesse I know IF with such passing Beauty choice Delights The Architect of this great Round did frame This Pallace visible short lists of Fame And silly Mansion but of dying Wights How many Wonders what amazing lights Must that triumphing Seat of Glory claime That doth transcend all this All 's vaste hights Of whose bright Sun ours here is but a beame O blest abode O happy dwelling-place Where visibly th' Invisible doth raigne Blest People which do see true Beauties Face With whose far Shadows scarce he Earth doth daigne All Joy is but Annoy all Concord Strife Ma●ch'd with your endlesse Blisse and happy life LOve which is here a care That Wit and Will doth mar Uncertaine Truce and a most certaine War A shrill tempestuous Wind Which doth disturbe the Mind And like wild Waves all our designes commove Among those Pow'rs above Which see their Makers Face It a contentment is a quiet Peace A Pleasure void of Griefe a constant rest Eternall Joy which nothing can molest THat space where curled Waves do now divide From the great Continent our happy Isle Was sometime Land and now where Ships do glide Once with laborious Art the Plough did toyle Once those faire Bounds stretcht out so far and wide Where Towns no Shires enwall'd endeare each mile Were all ignoble Sea and marish vile Where Proteus Flocks danc'd measures to the Tide So Age transforming all still forward runs No wonder though the Earth doth change her Face New Manners Pleasures new turne with new Suns Locks now like Gold grow to an hoary grace Nay Minds rare shape doth change that lies despis'd Which was so deare of late and highly priz'd THis World a Hunting is The Prey poore Man the Nimrod fierce is Death His speedy Grayhounds are Lust Sicknesse Envy Care Strife that ne're falls amiss With all those ills which haunt us while we breath Now if by chance we flie Of these the eager chace Old Age with stealing pace Casts on his Nets and there we panting die WHy Worldlings do ye trust fraile Honours dreames And leane to guilted Glories which decay Why do ye toyle to registrate your Names On Ycie Pillars which soon melt away True Honour is not here that place it claimes Where black-brow'd Night doth not exile the Day Nor no far-shining lampe dives in the Sea But an eternall Sun spreads lasting Beames There it attendeth you where spotlesse Bands Of Sp'rits stand gazing on their soveraigne Blisse Where yeares not hold it in their cank'ring hands But who once noble ever noble is Look home lest he your weakned Wit make thrall Who Edens foolish Gard'ner earst made fall AS are those Apples pleasant to the Eye But full of smoake within which use to grow Neere that strange Lake where God powr'd from the Skie Huge show'rs of flames worse flames to overthrow Such are

Hopes Time may repaire When ruin'd Faith must finish in despaire III. Alas Ye look but up the Hill on me Which shews to you a faire and smooth ascent The Precipice behind ye cannot see On which high Fortunes are too pronely bent If there I slip what former joy or blisse Can heale the bruise of such a fall as this A Reply I. WHo love enjoyes and placed hath his Mind Where fairer Vertues fairest beauties grace Than in himselfe such store of worth doth find That he deserves to hold so good a Place To chilling feares how can he be set forth Whose feares condemne his own doubts others worth II. Desire as flames of Zeale Feare Horrours meets They rise who fall o● falling never prov'd Who is so dainty satiate with swee●s To murmur when the Banket is remov'd The fairest hopes Time in the Bud destroys When sweet are memories of ruin'd Joyes III. It is no Hill but Heaven where you remaine And whom Desert advanced hath so high To reach the Guerdon of his burning Paine Must not repine to fall and falling dye His Hopes are crown'd what years of tedious breath Can them compare with such a happy Death W. D. A Translation AH silly Soule what wilt thou ●ay When he whom earth and Heavens obey Comes Man to judge in the last Day II. When He a reason askes why Grace And Goodnesse thou wouldst not embrace But steps of Vanity didst trace III. That Day of Terrour Vengeance Ire Now to prevent thou should'st desire And to thy God in haste retire IV. With watry Eyes and Sigh-swollen Heart O beg beg in his Love a part Whilst Conscience with remorse doth smart V. That dreaded Day of wrath and shame In flames shall turne this Worlds huge Frame As sacred Prophets do proclaime VI. O! with what Griefe shall Earthlings grone When that great Judge set on his Throne Examines strictly every One. VII Shrill-sounding Trumpets through the Aire Shall from dark Sepulchres each where Force wretched Mortalls to appeare VIII Nature and Death amaz'd remaine To find their dead arise againe And Processe with their Judge maintaine IX Display'd then open Books shall lye Which all those secret crimes descry For which the guilty World must dye X. The Judge enthron'd whom Bribes not gaine The closest crimes appeare shall plaine And none unpunished remaine XI O who then pitty shall poore me Or who mi●e Advocate shall be When scarce the justest passe shall free XII All wholly holy dreadfull King Who freely life to thine dost bring Of Mercy save me Mercies spring XIII Then sweet Jesu call to mind How of thy Paines I was the End And favour let me that day find XIV In search of me Thou full of paine Did'st sweat bloud Death on Crosse sustaine Let not these suff'rages be in vaine XV. Thou supreame Judge most just and wise Purge me from guilt which on me lies Before that day of thine Assize XVI Charg'd with remorse loe here I groane Sin makes my face a blush take on Ah! spare me prostrate at thy Throne XVII Who Mary Magdalen didst spare And lend'st the Thiefe on Crosse thine Eare Shewest me faire hopes I should not feare XVIII My prayers imperfect are and weake But worthy of thy grace them make And save me from Hells burning Lake XIX On that great Day at thy right hand Grant I amongst thy Sheep may stand Sequestred from the Goatish Band. XX. When that the Reprobates are all To everlasting flames made thrall O to thy Chosen Lord me call XXI That I one of thy Company With those whom thou dost justifie May live blest in Eternity Vpon John Earle of Laderdale his Death OF those rare Worthies who adorn'd our North And shin'd like Constellations Thou alone Remaindst last great Maitland charg'd with worth Second in Vertues Theater to none But finding all eccentrick in our times Religion into superstition turn'd Justice silenc'd exiled or inurn'd Truth Faith and Charity reputed Crimes The young man destinate by sword to fall And Trophees of their Countries spoiles to reare Strange Laws the Ag'd and prudent to appale And forc'd sad yoakes of Tyranny to beare And for nor great nor vertues minds a roome Disdaining life thou shouldst into thy Tombe II. WHen misdevotion every where shall take place And lofty Oratours in thundring termes Shall move you people to arise in armes And Churches hallow'd policy deface When you shall but one generall sepulchre As Averroes did one generall Soule On high on low on good on bad confer And your dull Predecessors rites controule Ah spare this Monument great Guests it keeps Three grave Justiciars whom true worth did raise The Muses Darlings whose losse Phoebus weeps Best mens delight the glory of their daies More we would say but feare and stand in aw To turne Idolaters and break your Law III. DO not repine blest soule that humble wits Do make thy worth the matter of their Verse No high strain'd Muse our times and sorrows fits And we do sigh not sing to crown thy Hearse Thy wisest Prince e're manag'd Brittaines State Did not disdaine in numbers cleere and brave The vertues of thy Sire to celebrate And fix a rich memoriall on his Grave Thou didst deserve no lesse and here in Jet Gold Touch Brasse Porphyrie or Parian Stone That by a Princes hand no lines are set For thee the cause is now this Land hath none Such Giant Moods our parity forth brings We all will nothing be or all be Kings EPITAPHS TO The Obsequies of the blessed Prince JAMES King of Great Brittaine LEt holy David Solomon the Wise That King whose Breast Aegeria did inflame Augustus Helens Son Great in all Eyes Do Homage low to thy Mausolean Frame And bow before thy Laurels Anadem Let all those sacred Swans which to the Skies By never-dying Layes have rais'd their Name From North to South where Sun doth set and rise Religion Orphan'd waileth o're thy Urne Justice weeps out her Eyes now truly blind To Niobes the remnant Vertues turne Fame but to blaze thy Glories staies behind I' th' World which late was golden by thy Breath Is Iron turn'd and horrid by thy Death On the Death of a young Lady THis Beauty which pale Death in Dust did turne And clos'd so soon within a Coffin sad Did passe like Lightning like to Thunder burne So little Life so much of Worth it had Heavens but to shew their Might here made it shine And when admir'd then in the Worlds disdaine O Teares O Griefe did call it back againe Lest Earth should vaunt she kept what was Divine What can we hope for more what more enjoy Sith fairest things thus soonest have their End And as on Bodies shadows do attend Sith all our Blisse is follow'd with Annoy She is not dead she lives where she did love Her Memory on Earth her sou●e above FOnd Wight who dream'st of Greatness Glory State And Worlds of Pleasures Honours dost devise Awake Learne how that here thou