Selected quad for the lemma: soul_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
soul_n	body_n	bring_v	death_n	8,551	5	5.4004	4	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A13797	Alba The months minde of a melancholy louer, diuided into three parts: by R.T. Gentleman. Hereunto is added a most excellent pathetical and passionate letter, sent by Duke D'Epernoun, vnto the late French King, Henry the 3. of that name, when he was commanded from the court, and from his royall companie. Translated into English by the foresaid author.	Tofte, Robert, 1561-1620.; Epernon, Jean-Louis de Nogaret de La Valette, duc d', 1554-1642.	1598 (1598)	STC 24096; ESTC S111433	52,678	150

ride Creator of all Creatures that do liue Whose Loue was such as thou for Man hast dide Though he thee hated skorned and did grieue Vouchsafe to view and rue my desprate state And me once more from sinne regenerate Ah looke vpon me with milde Mercies eye Clense me with purest Water of thy Grace Remember not how I haue gone awry Since I renounce to runne more such a Race Ah glorious Spouse thy Beautie I desire For now to He●uen not Earth my Thoughts aspire Griefe that was once farre off remou'd from me Begins as now for to approach me nere Clad in his Weedes which Black and fearf●ll be And crownde with fatall Cypresse doth appeare With wringing Hands he doth bewaile my ruth And mournes that I haue straide so wide frō Truth Reason the Cochman to my wandring Thought As in a Christall glasse doth shew most plaine My gazing eyes how I haue fondly wrought Spending my Time in Toyes and Fancies vaine He shew'th me now another Nouell LOVE Another path wherein my feete to moue As One who in his Trauaile doth espie By chance a hideous Serpent or foule Snake That long before vnseene did closely lie Behinde some stub where he his Nest did make Shaking his three-forkt hissing tongue apace Quickly himselfe retireth from that place So I by louing wrong vnhappie Wight Hauing amisse straide long time and awrie When I at last of Death had but a sight Although farre off yet backward gan I hie Backward I came with hastie speedie foote Leauing that Course which I at first had tooke Thou w●ndring Spirit to whom Ioue doth commit Of this my Body fraile the gouernment Why gadding thus from Truth so farre dost flit Why are thine eyes with wilfull blindnes pent Why dost not marke what Danger is at hand What damned Death doth at thine elbow stand Ah be not flattred with this poysenous LOVE But call thy former Wits to thee againe Those wicked Thoughts roote out and hence remoue Whilst Life in thee to do it doth remaine What Mortall is by mortall Death suppresse Thy Gaine shall be the more thy Losse the lesse Heauen once thy Mansion was and dwelling place Now Hell thou seekst by running thus astray Vnhappie Soule to be in such a case So wilfully to seeke thine owne Decay Thou woundst thy selfe to God a Rebbell th' art And only striu'st to please the World in Hart. Alas in whom now dost thou put thy trust On whom dost thou relie or hope on now Ah turne and still liue shalt thou with the Iust Ah turne againe and trebble blessed thou Thou then shalt be whereas the Blessed are Pure Soule mongst Soules mongst Stars a brightsome Starre What 's God The Sourse of Goodnes and the Sprin● What is that Goodnes Such a Goodnes sound As aye increaseth without perishing How is it made In frame and fashion Round Like to a Forme that in it doth containe His End and his Beginning in the same This Goodnes first from whence did it proceede Three proper Veines there be that forth do runne Out of one sacred Sea from Heauen decreede Which co●passe doth All what so ere sees Sunne Cannot we see it This ESSENCE most Diuine No Mortall Man hath seene at any time How can it then be if it neere be seene That i● our mindes oft lifteth vp on High As if in Vision we in Heauen had beene It makes vs view such Wonders with Faiths eye With Faith● cleere eye which shines to vs so bright As vnto Heauen it is our Guide and Light What is that Faith A Gift which if Defect In him that firme beleeueth be not found It blindfold leades him yet with steps direct Vnto that place where perfect Ioyes abound Where God the Father Sonne and Holy Ghost Doe raigne in Glorie great of Mightiest most Thou LIFE which Life art calde and yet art Death Thou DEATH which Death art termde and yet art Life Say which of you maintaine my v●tall breath Within thi● wretched Vale of Worldly strife Say which prolongs my Life most of you Twaine Or thou LIFE or thou DEATH say both the same I more then LIFE straight DEATH doth answer make Nay I quoth LIFE farre more then DEATH to me And for this Cause this only Name I take Of LIFE which by my meanes alone can be Because whilst I within thy Body liue Death no way can thee hinder hurt or grieue But I by cutting off DEATH straight replies This slender Thred whereby Men runne their race Bring euery Faithfull soule in friendly wise Where he a better path for aye may trace Making him leade a Life eternallie A LIFE that still doth liue and neuer die Wherefore what ere he be that meanes to ioy This other LIFE that is Celestiall He mu●● not scorne to scape from worlds annoy Nor thinke it much to come when DEATH shall call For DEATH no● LIFE doth help vs at the end LIFE is our Foe but DEATH our dearest Friend All fraile most happie Day in blessed wise A Day of Griefe yet Honorable Day In which the Father did for Sacrifise Offer his Sonne to saue Man from decay Clensing our Soules defilde with sinfull mind With Innocent with pure and pretious Blood Vpon that Crosse now sacred then Prophane He ●ide for vs who could not dye indeede Whilst closing his fayre eyes for Mortals gaine He opened all the Gates of Heauen with speede Restoring them that Kingdome we had lost VVhich nothing Vs but Him too dearly cost Not his but our Due was it for to Die Those Torments which he meekly did endure His Crowne of Thornes his Wounds done spitefully That Cursed Scourge that spilt his Blood so pure All these to Vs and not to him did long Yet for our sakes our Christ himselfe did wrong Then if for pitie Graues do open wide Hils cleaue and Marble pillars rent in twaine If Heauens themselues their Lights for griefe do hide And if the Sunne for sorow clipst remaine VVhat Mortall hart is there that doth not breake VVhen he but thinks or of this Day doth speake That Vertue through whose power rulde is my soule Only through Vertuous Loue from Loue set free Takes force afresh as one that would controule And finding strong himselfe within to bee Vnbridled Will he seekes to bridle now And tries to breake what fore he scarce could bow New Lords new Lawes New Customes breake the Olde And where before a dark and mistie clowde My minde as in a prison did infolde Now is it loosde from out that gloomie shrowde My Hart doth iump euen iust with his desire And by their Eye know both what to require My watchfull Soule recouered hath well nie The former state in which he liued in And being free doth call to memorie VVhat bound he did forget through wretched sin VVhil●● for his life repentant he attends Immortally to liue for his amends Not any part there is of Bodie mine But filled is with true not false Delight Yet doth it grieue

Besides if I my Crosses should reueale They would renew my sorrowes fresh againe Therefore I vowed haue them to conceale The more to feele the depth of lasting Paine Reaping not only discontent hereby ●ut all Despayre of future remedie How secret haue I bin this seuen whole yeare That scarce I haue not yet nor yet scarce dare To tell her Name I so much still do feare To purchase th' anger of this ●dainfull FAIRE How Faithfull that haue offred her to plea●e To dye for her so ought I might her ease But what auailes all this for all my griefe I cannot hope she euer will be kinde When she was present I nere found reliefe And in her absence think you she 'le me minde O no as likelie ●is she 'le pitie mee As I am like vnlikely her to see ●o great a griefe did neuer pearce the Hart Of any louing Mother ouer kinde When she her only sonne readie to part Doth see to forraine Countrie gainst her minde Losing the staffe of her old Age and stay On whom the Hope of all her Comfort lay As wofull I when I those louely Eyes Saw to looke back which I should see no more Of many daies and when in pitious wise They shewd by signes Our parting grieu'd them sore Ah when her last looke back on me she cast Then then I thought I should haue breath'd my last Yet for my Harts sake did my spi●its reuiue And life once more recouered they againe Whilst staring after her I kept aliue And thought that I not seeing her saw her plaine Long t●me my Powers were got into my sight Deluding me with pleasing false Delight But now that her rare Beautie liues els where I le waile with teares her Absence my Disgrace With weeping I my sight away will weare Which skornes to looke on any but that Face Eyes be Recluses you can weep no more And Hart since She is gone weep bloody gore Ye Hoarie Hils and Icie waters colde If what fresh Aprill giues sharp Iani●●ere To take away from you himselfe shewes bolde Yet quickly doth the Sunne with pleasing cheere Restore to you your Liuerie● greene againe And flowring Banks longst which you streme a●●ain But now to me from whom mine ALBA faire Still hides her selfe all Hope is withered quite Nor will she shew her selfe to ease my Care For my yong Plant an enuious frost doth bite Since that same hart that gentle was of yore Hardning it selfe gainst me still swelleth more Nature you gouernes but Loue rules ore mee Nature is louing as a Mother kinde Loue worse then cruell S●epd●me is to see And to my losse gainst conscience doth me binde Taking from me mine ancient Priuiledge Whereby I liue my daies for to ab●idge Then happie Hils you shall be greene againe And blessed Springs your Courses you shall holde But if that she reuiue not that hath slaine I soone shall dye Conceit is growne so colde Lest her warme Sunne glide hither it to thaw My freezing Hart no more his breath shall draw How long shall I knock at that Iron Gate Of thy hard Hart for mercie but in vaine How long my Griefes to thy deaffe eares relate And reape nought els but trauell for my paine Yet still I le hope since Acornes Okes become And tynie drops proue Floods that streaming runne Thy f●ce is faire yeeld Fauour then to mee Thy hart is flesh not bone then gently show Ah let thy Loue with thy sweet Cheere agree And to attonement we shall quickly grow My Loue which is to thee more then extreame Requite not with a fortune ouer meane If thou shouldst be Vnfaithfull in thy Loue VVhere should I flie for succour or for Truth If th'owlt not heare my sute whom should I moue If thou be Cruell who will then shew Ruth If thou ●eceit shalt vse t will likely be Others dispence will with deepst subtiltie More triall then th' hast had thou canst not haue How oft my secret Harts depth wilt thou sound Wilt thou my blood spill when thou maist it saue When thou maist heale my Grief still wilt thou wound Ah do not Surgion like Anatomise Each mu●●le of my griefe in cruell wise Sick in my lothed Bed I languish fast Nor can my learned Doctor help me ought His cunning now is at the latest cast Yet he no ease to crased me hath brought And marueile none though he no help can finde Sick am I not in Bodie but in minde My hart each houre doth worse and worser proue And my Disease encreaseth more and more Because he wants her sight whom I doe loue Nor can I haue a salue for this my sore Lesse so much labour LOVE for me doth take As my Phisition ALBA faire to make Sick is my soule my Body languisheth Th'one's farre f●om health the other 's nothing nie So as I doubtfull l●ue scarce drawing breath Twixt feare and hope in this extremitie A strange Consumption hath me wasted l●ng And for a Pearle restoratiue I long This for me then all Phisick is most sure Or els I doubt I neuer shall be whole For whilst that Nature would my Bodie cure Loue pestilenzing doth infect my soule Then ALBA shew now if thou be'st Diuine Raise Dead to life for now or nere t is time Why should I loue when I am loathed still And praise her still who seekes me to dispraise Why should graue reason yeelde to headstrong will My Griefes the more to multiplie and raise I doe commit Idolatrie extreme With her whom I should rather right blaspheme Fire if it warme not for no Fire we deeme The Sunne no Sunne we count except it shine Water no water bu● it wer doe seeme Vertue no Vertue lest it show some signe No Woman is she that 's not pitifull Rather Pri●es Spaune a nice disdainefull Trull Haue I transgrest the Boundes of Modestie Whispering vndecent speeches in her Eare Or haue I ere assailde her Chastitie And sought the spoyle thereof away to beare If I haue ●●●mde my self in such grosse wise Why then she reason hath me to despise ●h no fat be it from my harmeles Thought ●uch base vnseemely tricks to her to moue ● matter small it was God knowes I sought Onely to be Receiuer to her Loue. No scandall t' is t' is no Disparagement Seruice t'acc●pt where naught but Honors ment Faine would I take of quiet sleepe the Say My wearied Corse with ease for to delight But I no wished rest can finde by Day Nor slumber swee●ely in my bed by Night No rest I wretched man as yet can take My woes are such as force me still to wake My Trueth is measured by my Fortune hard And I poore soule Vnfaithfull iudged am Because I seeme Vnhappie and am bard Frō all good Chance Gainst right I beare the blame But willingly since she doth will I shall Whose Absence turnes my Hony into Gaule Yet faine I slumber would though but a while But if I cannot with that Fode

still at her former Crime And with Remorse doth mortifie the Spright VVhilst wronged Soule on Others layes the blame Yet reprehends her selfe euen for the same This earthly Beautie doth the Sence delight But Heauenly Beautie doth ●he minde mo●e please The one the World hath as an Obiect right And seekes the World to pleasure with sweet ease But th' other hath ●ehouah for hir glasse Nor she for any but for him doth passe The Sence doth burne with ●oues vnperfect works Which like a blaz● in th' aire doth flit away The Soule thirsts after that which neuer hurts And hunts for that which neuer will decay That which not subiect is to any time But of it selfe most Perfect and Diuine Thou Lord the Mortall and Immortall both Created hast marke humbly I require How much within my bodie they be wroth Marke how within me gainst me they conspire VVithin themselues they vary so and grudge That which of both shall win us hard to iudge My bad Conceits from Adam sprung of yore Doo headlong runne to endles death with shame And lesse that Reason do th●m bridle sore Hardly my Soule can ●asse from whence it came Then pardon Lord the Course that I haue runne And I from Sinne a new Man will become A Tirant great faire Beautie is in Loue When it doth triumph in a louely face And who with cold Disdaine this doth not moue Is caught by subtill sweet alluring Grace Who stands at Beauties Gaze and doth not flie Is soone entrapt by wilfull glan●ing eye This which of true Loue is but Picture bare With shadowing Vale doth dimme our cleerest sight And if to follow it we do not spare It soone deceiues vs with a false delight And to perpetuall prison sends our soule Vnles her sleights by Reason we controule Faire Pearle fine gold base ex●rements of th' earth What 's Beautie but a little White and Red Reuiued with a little liuely Breath With Winde or Sunne or Sicknes altered All this ●oth Time consume and bring to nought And all what ere into this world is brought The fairest Colours drie and vanish shall The yongst must pack as well as doth the Olde All mortall things to mortall death must fall And therefore first were cast in earthly molde That which doth ●●orish greene as grasse to day Tomorow withereth like to dried Hay Swift flies our yeares as doth a running streame And lothed Age comes stealing on apace Our youth doth passe away as t were a Dreame And Death doth follow for to take his place Death comes and our Lifes patent to his hand For to resigne he straight doth vs command Strength to his course and winde vnto his flight VVith feathers to his wings Time ioyneth fast And this sweet life which we so much do like Though nere so loth yet must away at last The fairest Flower must wither with the weede VVhat so doth liue to die was first decreede Thrise happie man and trebble blest is he That neuer treads his steps from rightest way Nor with the mist of VVorld will blinded be But keepes right path and neuer goes astray Contemning all these mundaine Treasur● base In hope to ioy the heauenly Wealth of Grace VVho dyeth ill dyes who dieth well neuer dies But liues a life aboue Eternallie Like good ●l●as who in wondrous wise VVas from base Earth tooke vp to liue in skie VVhere bide Th'elect of Christ for euer blest In Abrahams bosome there for aye to rest For thee my HART doth burne like fire Deare Lord Which freesde before like Frost and chillie Ice For thee to leaue my sinne I doe accord Through which thy heauenly grace I did despise All Follies now as Shadowes vaine I le leaue And vnto thee the Substance trew I cleaue In thee I burne and in my selfe I freese Frozen through feare but burning through thy Loue. Reason ore Senses mine now ouersees And her Authoritie ore them doth proue Which makes me humbly call to thee for grace Though proud before I runne a selfe wild race Repentance right sad Griefe salt Teares sure Faith Renue in me a sorie Contrite Hart My guiltie Conscience oft within me saith I Death deserue yet Mercifull thou art Sighs from ●y soule I offer for my Fee As pretious Blood thou offredst once for mee My Hart now clensde and yet not mine as now ●weet Christ to thee his first Home turnes againe ●rom me he flies and vnto thee doth bow ● giue it thee Accept I pray the same Ah Soueraigne Sauiour do not now despise A broken Hart for pleasing Sacrifise Weake is my Barke in which my Life doth rowe My wretched life through grieuous faults mispent And in the World his Ocean sayles but slowe Because it falles into the Occident My sickly Minde runnes selfe same doubtfull way And Soule doth grieue that Fancie ●o doth stray And though a gentle calmie Winde to blowe She findes about her as she fresh do●h sayle Yet vnder Waters doe I spie belowe The Foe of my poore Soule her to assayle And in that part wherein he doth espie The Ship to leake in that he close doth lie Ah now it grieues me now I doe repent My re●chlesse Race that I so Iewde haue runne Yet hath my God in mercie to me sent Helpe to my Vessell weake else I vndon● Hope at the left hand standes that part ●o guide And constant Faith on right hand doth abide Earth was my flesh before and earth againe Ere long it shall be but my Soule on hie Shall be lift vp in brightest Heauens ●o raigne If I from false alluring Sinne can flie When at his feete who first life to me gaue A Glorious Seat for euer I shall haue Full 7. times foure of yeeres my life hath runne Whil'st to my selfe a heauy B●rthen sore To others I a gainelesse charge become Soyled with beastly Thoughts vncleanly gore Whil'st in true Light being blind I farther goe From Reasons path which Iudgement did me show Slow to good works but too too swift to ill My Soule abroad with flitting wings doth flie And in the worlds darke bottom of Selfe will Mongst 1000. Snares she carelesly doth lie Where sensual Sense and Ignorance astray Her doubtfull leades quight out of her right way Too obstinate she headlong forward runnes In greatest Light she tumbleth in most darke Nor takes she thought what of her selfe becomes Be it right or wrong her course she doth not marke So that although Immortall she should liue Most mortall Death she seekes her selfe to giue But now thanks to the Soueraigne King of all She no more blinde the dangers gins to spie And looking backe vnto her former fall She doth repent through faith most heartily Where she doth see of Heauen the narrow Gate Which once was shut now ope for her escape King of all Kinges which from thy sacred Throne Doest ma●ke and view from forth the Heauens hie Thy Graces vnto Adams Ofspring showne Of thy great Loue although vnworthilie