Selected quad for the lemma: love_n

Word A Word B Word C Word D Occurrence Frequency Band MI MI Band Prominent
love_n heaven_n love_v soul_n 5,739 5 5.0400 4 true
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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A97312 The Diseased maiden louer being a pleasant new song, to an excellent new tune, or, may be sang [sic] to the tune of Bonny Nell. 1635 (1635) ESTC S5325 820 1

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The diseased Maiden Louer Being a pleasant new court Song To an excellent new tune Or to be sung to the tune of Bonny Nell AS I went forth one Summers day To view the Meddowes fresh and gay A pleasant Bower I espi'd Standing hard by a Riuers side and in 't I heard a Mayden cry alas there 's none ere lou'd like I. I couched close to heare her moane With many a heauie groane And wisht that I had beene the wight That might haue bred her hearts delight but these were all the words that she did still repeat none loues like me Then round the Meddowes did she walke Catching each flower by the stalke Such as within the Meddowes grew As Dead-mans thumbe and Hare-bell blue and as she pluckt them still cryde she alas there 's none ere lou'd like me A bed therein she made to lie Of fine greene things that grew fast by Of Poplers and of Willow leaues Of Sicamore and Flaggy sheaues and as she pluckt them still cryde she alas there 's none ere lou'd like me The little Lark-foote shee 'd not passe Nor yet the flowers of Three-leau'd grasse With Milkemayds Honny Succles phraise The Crowes foot nor the yellow Crayse and as she pluckt them still cride she alas there 's none ere lou'd like me The pretty Dasie which doth show Her loue to Phoebus bred her woe Who ioyes to see his chéerefull face And mournes when he is not in place alacke alacke alacke quoth she there 's none that euer lou'd like me The Flowers of the sweetest sent She bound them round with knotted Bent And as she layd them still in bands She wept she wayl'd and wrung her hands alas alas alas quoth she there 's none that euer lou'd like me False man quoth she forgiue thee heauen As I doe wish my sinnes forgiuen In blest Elizium I shall sleepe When thou with periur'd soules shalt weep who when they liu'd did like to thee that lou'd their Loues as thou dost mee When she had fild her Apron full Of such sweet Flowers as she could cull The greene leaues seru'd her for a Bed The Flowers pillowes for her head Then down she lay ne're more did speake alas with loue her heart did breake FINIS Printed at London for I. Wright