Selected quad for the lemma: sense_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
sense_n	place_n	see_v	word_n	3,565	5	4.0125	3	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A36650	Miscellany poems containing a new translation of Virgills eclogues, Ovid's love elegies, odes of Horace, and other authors : with several original poems / by the most eminent hands.	Virgil. Bucolica. English.; Dryden, John, 1631-1700.; Dryden, John, 1631-1700. Absalom and Achitophel.; Dryden, John, 1631-1700. Medall.; Dryden, John, 1631-1700. MacFlecknoe.	1684 (1684)	Wing D2314; ESTC R297	122,944	436

And trie their strength before they came to Blows Yet all was colour'd with a smooth pretence Of specious Love and Duty to their Prince Religion and Redress of Grievances Two names that always cheat and always please Are often urg'd and good King David's life Endanger'd by a Brother and a Wife Thus in a Pageant Shew a Plot is made And Peace it self is War in Masquerade Oh foolish Israel never warn'd by Ill Still the same bait and circumvented still Did ever men forsake their present ease In midst of Health Imagine a Disease Take pains Contingent mischiefs to foresee Make heirs for Monarchs and for God decree What shall we think Can People give away Both for themselves and Sons their native Sway Then they are left defenceless to the Sword Of each unbounded arbitrary Lord And Laws are vain by which we Right enjoy If Kings unquestion'd can those Laws destroy Yet if the Croud be Judge of Fit and Just And Kings are onely Officers in Trust Then this resuming Cov'nant was declar'd When Kings were made or is for ever bar'd If those who gave the Sceptre coud not tie By their own deed their own Posterity How then coud Adam bind his future Race How coud his forfeit on Mankind take place Or how coud Heavenly Justice damn us all Who ne'er consented to our Fathers Fall Then Kings are slaves to those whom they command And Tenants to their Peoples pleasure stand Add that the Pow'r for Property allow'd Is mischievously seated in the Croud For who can be secure of private Right If Sovereign Sway may be dissolv'd by Might Nor is the Peoples Judgment always true The Most may err as grosly as the Few And faultless Kings run down by Common Cry For Vice Oppression and for Tyranny What Standard is there in a fickle Rout Which flowing to the Mark runs faster out Nor onely Crouds but Sanhedrins may be Infected with this Publick Lunacy And Share the madness of Rebellious Times To Murther Monarchs for Imagin'd Crimes If they may give and take when e'er they please Not Kings alone the God-heads Images But Government it self at length must fall To Natures State where all have Right to all Yet grant our Lords the People Kings can make What prudent men a setled Throne woud shake For whatsoe'er their Sufferings were before That Change they Covet makes them suffer more All others Errours but disturb a Sate But Innovation is the Blow of Fate If ancient Fabricks nod and threat to fall To Patch the Flaws and Buttress up the Wall Thus far 't is Duty but here fix the Mark For all beyond it is to touch our Ark. To change Foundations cast the Frame anew Is work for Rebels who base Ends pursue At once Divine and Humane Laws controul And mend the Parts by ruine of the Whole The tampr'ing world is subject to this Curse To Physick their Disease into a Worse Now what Relief can Righteous David bring How Fatal 't is to be too good a King Friends he has few so high the madness grows Who dare be such must be the Peoples Foes Yet some there were ev'n in the worst of days Some let me Name and Naming is to Praise In this short File Barzillai first appears Barzillai crown'd with Honour and with Years Long since the rising Rebels he withstood In regions Waste beyond the Iordan's Flood Unfortunately Brave to buoy the State But sinking underneath his Master's Fate In Exile with his God-like Prince he mourn'd For him he Suffer'd and with him Return'd The Court he practis'd not the Courtier 's Art Large was his Wealth but larger was his Heart Which well the Noblest Objects knew to chuse The Fighting Warriour and Recording Muse. His Bed coud once a Fruitfull Issue boast Now more than half a Father's Name is lost His Eldest Hope with every Grace adorn'd By me so Heav'n will have it always Mourn'd And always honour'd snatch'd in Manhoods prime B'unequal Fates and Providences crime Yet not before the Goal of Honour won All Parts fulfill'd of Subject and of Son Swift was the Race but short the Time to run Oh Narrow Circle but of Pow'r Divine Scanted in Space but perfect in thy Line By Sea by Land thy matchless Worth was known Arms thy Delight and War was all thy Own Thy force infus'd the fainting Tyrians prop'd And haughty Pharaoh found his Fortune stop'd Oh Ancient Honour Oh unconquer'd Hand Whom Foes unpunish'd never coud withstand But Israel was unworthy of his Name Short is the date of all Immoderate Fame It looks as Heav'n our Ruine had design'd And durst not trust thy Fortune and thy Mind Now free from Earth thy di●encumbred Soul Mounts up and leaves behind the Clouds and Starry Pole From thence thy kindred Legions maist thou bring To aid the Guardian Angel of thy King Here stop my Muse here cease thy painfull slight No Pinions can pursue Immortal height Tell good Barzillai thou canst sing no more And tell thy Soul she should have fled before Or fled she with his life and left this Verse To hang on her departed Patron 's Hearse Now take thy steepy flight from Heav'n and see If thou canst find on Earth another He Another He would be too hard to find See then whom thou canst see not far behind Zadoc the Priest whom shunning Pow'r and Place His lowly mind advanc'd to David's Grace With him the Sagan of Ierusalem Of hospitable Soul and noble Stem Him of the Western dome whose weighty sense Flows in fit words and heavenly eloquence The Prophets Sons by such Example led To Learning and to Lyalty were bred For Colleges on bounteous Kings depend And never Rebel was to Arts a Friend To these succeed the Pillars of the Laws Who best coud plead and best can judge a Cause Next them a train of Loyal Peers ascend Sharp judging Adriel the Muses Friend Himself a Muse In Sanhedrins debate True to his Prince but not a Slave of State Whom David's Love with Honours did adorn That from his disobedient Son were torn Iotham of piercing Wit and pregnant Thought Endu'd by Nature and by Learning taught To move Assemblies who but onely try'd The worse a while then chose the better side Nor chose alone but turn'd the Balance too So much the weight of one Brave man can doe Hushai the Friend of David in distress In publick storms of manly stedfastness By Foreign Treaties he inform'd his Youth And joyn'd Experience to his Native Truth His frugal care supply'd the wanting Throne Frugal for that but bounteous of his own 'T is easie Conduct when Exchequers slow But hard the task to manage well the low For Sovereign Power is too deprest or high When Kings are forc'd to sell or Crouds to buy Indulge one labour more my weary Muse For Amiel who can Amiel's praise refuse Of ancient Race by birth but nobler yet In his own worth and without Title Great The Sanhedrin long time as Chief he rul'd Their Reason

Lute and Sword which he in Triumph bore And vow'd he ne'er would act Villerius more Here stopt the good old Syre and wept for joy In silent raptures of the hopefull boy All arguments but most his Plays perswade That for anointed dullness he was made Close to the Walls which fair Augusta bind The fair Augusta much to fears inclin'd An ancient fabrick rais'd t' inform the sight There stood of yore and Barbican it hight A watch Tower once but now so Fate ordains Of all the Pile an empty name remains From its old Ruins Brothel-houses rise Scenes of lewd loves and of polluted joys Where their vast Courts the Mother-Strumpets keep And undisturb'd by Watch in silence sleep Near these a Nursery erects its head Where Queens are form'd and future Hero's bred Where unfledg'd Actors learn to laugh and cry Where infant Punks their tender Voices try And little Maximins the Gods defy Great Fletcher never treads in Buskins here Nor greater Iohnson dares in Socks appear But gentle Simkin just reception finds Amidst this Monument of vanisht minds Pure Clinches the suburbian Muse affords And Panton waging harmless War with words Here Fleckno as a place to Fame well known Ambitiously design'd his Sh 's Throne For ancient Decker prophesi'd long since That in this Pile should Reign a mighty Prince Born for a scourge of Wit and flayle of Sense To whom true dulness should some Psyches owe But Worlds of Misers from his pen should flow Humorists and Hypocrites it should produce Whole Raymond families and Tribes of Bruce Now Empress Fame had publisht the renown Of Sh 's Coronation through the Town Rows'd by report of Fame the Nations meet From near Bun-Hill and distant Watling-street No Persian Carpets spread th' Imperial way But scatter'd Limbs of mangled Poets lay From dusty shops neglected Authors come Martyrs of Pies and Reliques of the Bum. Much Heywood Shirly Ogleby there lay But loads of Sh almost choakt the way Bilk't Stationers for Yeomen stood prepar'd And H was Captain of the Guard The hoary Prince in Majesty appear'd High on a Throne of his own Labours rear'd At his right hand our young Ascanius sat Rome's other hope and pillar of the State His Brows thick fogs instead of glories grace And lambent dullness plaid arround his face As Hannibal did to the Altars come Sworn by his Syre a mortal Foe to Rome So Sh swore nor should his Vow bee vain That he till Death true dullness would maintain And in his father's Right and Realms defence Ne'er to have peace with Wit nor truce with Sense The King himself the sacred Unction made As King by Office and as Priest by Trade In his sinister hand instead of Ball He plac'd a mighty Mug of potent Ale Love's Kingdom to his right he did convey At once his Sceptre and his rule of Sway Whose righteous Lore the Prince had practis'd young And from whose Loyns recorded Psyche sprung His Temples last with Poppies were o'erspread That nodding seem'd to consecrate his head Just at that point of time if Fame not lye On his left hand twelve reverend Owls did fly So Romulus 't is sung by Tyber's Brook Presage of Sway from twice six Vultures took Th' admiring throng loud acclamations make And Omens of his future Empire take The Syre then shook the honours of his head And from his brows damps of oblivion shed Full on the filial dullness long he stood Repelling from his Breast the raging God At length burst out in this prophetick mood Heavens bless my Son from Ireland let him reign To farr Barbadoes on the Western main Of his Dominion may no end be known And greater than his Father's be his Throne Beyond loves Kingdom let him stretch his Pen He paus'd and all the people cry'd Amen Then thus continu'd he my Son advance Still in new Impudence new Ignorance Success let others teach learn thou from me Pangs without birth and fruitless Industry Let Virtuoso's in five years be Writ Yet not one thought accuse thy toyl of wit Let gentle George in triumph tread the Stage Make Dorimant betray and Loveit rage Let Cully Cockwood Fopling charm the Pit And in their folly shew the Writers wit Yet still thy fools shall stand in thy defence And justifie their Author's want of sense Let 'em be all by thy own model made Of dullness and desire no foreign aid That they to future ages may be known Not Copies drawn but Issue of thy own Nay let thy men of wit too be the same All full of thee and differing but in name But let no alien S dl y interpose To lard with wit thy hungry Epsom prose And when false flowers of Rhetorick thou would'st cull Trust Nature do not labour to be dull But write thy best and top and in each line Sir Formal's oratory will be thine Sir Formal though unsought attends thy quill And does thy Northern Dedications fill Nor let false friends seduce thy mind to fame By arrogating Iohnson's Hostile name Let Father Fleckno fire thy mind with praise And Uncle Ogleby thy envy raise Thou art my blood where Iohnson has no part What share have we in Nature or in Art Where did his wit on learning fix a brand And rail at Arts he did not understand Where made he love in Prince Nicander's vein Or swept the dust in Psyche's humble strain Where sold he Bargains Whip-stitch kiss my Arse Promis'd a Play and dwindled to a Farce When did his Muse from Fletcher scenes purloin As thou whole Eth'ridg dost tranfuse to thine But so transfus'd as Oylon Waters flow His always floats above thine sinks below This is thy Province this thy wondrous way New Humours to invent for each new Play This is that boasted Byas of thy mind By which one way to dullness 't is inclin'd Which makes thy writings lean on oneside still And in all changes that way bends thy will Nor let thy mountain belly make pretence Of likeness thine 's a tympany of sense A Tun of Man in thy Large bulk is writ But sure thou' rt but a Kilderkin of wit Like mine thy gentle numbers feebly creep Thy Tragick Muse gives smiles thy Comick sleep With whate'er gall thou sett'st thy self to write Thy inoffensive Satyrs never bite In thy fellonious heart though Venom lies It does but touch thy Irish pen and dyes Thy Genius calls thee not to purchase fame In keen Iambicks but mild Anagram Leave writing Plays and chuse for thy command Some peacefull Province in Acrostick Land There thou maist wings display and Altars raise And torture one poor word Ten thousand ways Or if thou would'st thy diff'rent talents suit Set thy own Songs and sing them to thy lute He said but his last words were scarcely heard For Bruce and Longvil had a Trap prepar'd And down they sent the yet declaiming Bard. Sinking he left his Drugget robe behind Born upwards by A subterranean wind The Mantle fell to the young Prophet's part