Selected quad for the lemma: soul_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A61487
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Occasions off-spring, or, Poems upon severall occasions by Mathew Stevenson.
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Stevenson, Matthew, fl. 1654-1685.
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1645
(1645)
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Wing S5504; ESTC R14739
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54,320
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144
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fully finisht the world vast Theater He brings up Man and gives the world to see His curious art in their Epitome VVhich but in man he in no creature would They but of Simple hee of Compound mould They but of bodyes only doe consist In man a bodie and a soule contrist His bodie his base part earth represents His heaven-breathd soule earth's soule the elements The ingredients of the world are water Aire Earth fire such man's ingredients are Your leave And thus the semblance I rehearse Betweene the great and little Universe His head 's orbicular like the circular skies Whose lamps meet rivalls in his orient eyes And as t is heaven most like t is heaven most neare Reason swayes her majestiest seepter there That divine guest that makes a man thence all The senses borrow their originall And as their sole and supreme court repaire To manifest their virtues in that chaire Nor may I here forget that comely front That so surprises all that looke upon â—t Those lovely lineaments those goodly graces Attend the sweets of well proportiond faces What wonders nature in his tongue commences The instruments of delicious senses Which wee beyond expresse oftimes refresh With rapsodies from that small filme of flesh How right here 's Pan and phoebus whilst our cares Are partiall twixt our voyces and the spheares Some time t' is full and makes his voice as loud As thundring roating from the shattered cloud But let 's goe downward with his heires and see How it does with the piles of grasse agree The number well concurres in each wee see The numerous foot steps of a deitie Both the effect of moisture who so seekes The Rose or Lillie they so blow in his cheeks Nay what can you present but hee commands The lively transhape from his Protean handes His bloud is like the streams that to and fro Turning and winding are the center through should I here swell my story to present The office of each chord each ligament The Nerves the tendons and the Arteries My life would be toe short to finish these Nay there 's no member but in it I see A theame of wonder to eternitie And yet this body wee can't prayse enuffe Compare it with the soule ti's sordid stuffe Ther 's not such dfference t'wixt the sorrie case And Iewell t'wixt the mask and the faire face God made mans body after all the rest Add after that inspir'd the soule the best The body from the earth the dust ascends The incompounded soule from God descends T' is not the flessi but in the soule that wee Assume the image of the deitie The bodie 's suject to moralitie The soul part of the living God can't dye Natures appointed time of change revolves And it into his elements desolves His native heat does to the fire repaire Water to water breath unto the aire The bones and parts that are more solid must Lye prisners till they render dust to dust Meane time the soul her native station keeps In heaven whilst nature in her causes sleeps A Guesse at HELL Par nullae figura Gehennae ACcursed Topheth how shall I define This dismall dungeon this sad Cell of thine So dark so duskie so devoid of light How shall I see to draw thy picture right VVhat Colours shall I grinde Colours said I Thou art all black black as Proserpines Eye Deep declive beneath the dead Sea is In a blinde hole this thy all black Abysse Thy pitchie Pallace where the chearly Sun Nere comes as out of his commission Nor lends the Moon so much as one odd night To qualifie thy darknesse with her light VVhich we but sleep by No nor all the yeare Does one small starre on thy dark front appeare Thou blackest Moore ask but thy Danaan traine Their tub tash tells thee thou art labour in vaine Goe ask Ixion else or him whose stone Gathers no mosse they all conclude in one Thou the true Negro art and Patentee Of utter shades there is no night but thee The darknes the Egyptians felt was but A type of thine and but too fairely cut Trâ—tareous Tullian how thy tract is trod To Baalzeub knight of the black rod Whose haggie haire curls into snaky torts More terrible then poets poore reportâ— His ghastly yea his grislie looke is such My sense fosakee mee if I thinke on 't much His hornes the pitch fork is where with he turnes Those broyling Sceletons he ever burnes In flames that never shall be quencht but hark I talk of flames and yet I call Hell dark Flames I confesse there are but black not bright Yea there is fire and yet no firelight Fowle feind thy nose is like a Comet or The tayle of some prodigious Meteoï Well may it serve thee for thy red hot purr VVherewith thou dost thy stifling sulphur stirre Thy sooty Eybrowes are as black as coales Smoakt with thine eyes that flame like Oven holes Meane while the Corners where fresh Brimstone lies Pretend a yellow Jandyse in thine eyes But 't is the black the black fiend is thy griefe But thy disease admits of no reliefe Thy mouth like raging Aetna vomits fire The furious flakes of thy unslak't desire As much attractive and as mercilesse as The 7 times hotter headed furnace was Thine armes are firie fetters that embrace Those monuments of miserie whose sad case Thou do'st not pâ—ttie though though seem'st a while To weep upon them like the Crocodile Have you not heard of smoaking Sodom such His breath 's But Sodom smoak's not half so much His veynes are streams of sulphur His loud lungs His bellows And his hideous hands his tongues His black and melancholly bloud containes VVorse venome then â—re lurkt in Centaurs veines And by his cloven foot 't is plainly showne His Kingdom run's upon Division These are his titles The Vnfathom'd Gulfe The Roaring Lion And the Raging Woolfe The Wild Beast of the Forrest The Annoyer Of Christian liberty The Destroyer The Mortall Enemy of all man kinde By these and such like tearmes is he defind Father of Falshood Feeces of the Cup Of Condemnation who can summe thee up Or set thee forth No hand can ere effect it Unlesse that hand that captiv'd thee direct it Envye her Ensign on thy front displaies And like the Basilisk at distance slayes Thy Nose steep as the Alpes parts two deep Cells On this side Hatred That side Malice dwells And cause such beauty some preservatives askes Shame and Confusion are thy constant masks But least my Charkole faile to finish thee Thou art the form of all deformity As for thy vassalls thus begin their evills Their entrance strait transformes them into Devils Their entertainment will be such as they Shall flee to death But death will flye away Hard are their haps so vainly shall implore A deadly reqâ—iem at death's deafned dore The torturous worme that gnawes their consciences Doe's like Prometheus vultur never cease Curses are all their hymmes Their parched throats
possest ere it be vanished Strike while the Irons hot Cos. least you find The Proverb true occasions bald behind To me the man seems passing lovely Tush His beauty 's inward Good wâ—ne needs no bush Hee 's rich enough to make the world his debtor Love and lay hold then seldome comes a better I had not writ thus much but that I know Your parents own it and advise you so VVhose directory pleasure but â—ullfill And you do well though you do nere so ill Read and revise these lines sweet Cos. least youâ— VVhilst you your self make fast your selfe undoe To a faire Lady MADAM HArd is the task to write to such as you For if I give you but what 's halfe your due Such as are unacquainted with your worth Are apt to say I highly set you forth Whilst these that know you must conclude with mee Your praise above the straine of flattery They that nere saw the glory of the Sun Would think the Moon lights only parragon So fuch to whom scarce a good face is knowne Measure your beamfull beauty by their owne Whilst saw they but your face As in amaze They d worship what they wonder I so praise Could you faire soule but parcell out your graces There were enough t' â—nrich a thousand faces And leave your selfe such store as though your light Have made them starres you 'd still be Queen of night But hold my Muse my paper is halfe done And I have scarce her story yet begun But that would ask to tell you what I think A world of paper and a Sea of Inke Of Inke said I Inke alas would make that A spotted fame that is immaculate No I will rather never write at all Then mention her who is all-sweet in gall Hee that the Bow-bell of her praise would ring Must pluck a pineon from a Seraphins wing And write in Nectar till her fame appeares An anthem to the musick of the spheares But to leave what only my wish effects My fancy to what 's feasible directs I le rob the Swan of her white quill and then With the same pen-knife that I make my pen I le lance my purple veynes and therewith write Her story like her self in red and white And when my bloud ha's all forsook my veines Let mee but be her Martyr for my paines To my Mistresse SO love me ever all yee powers divine As I love her whom hope perswades is mine Rich then and happie were I thus to winne A beauty Heaven without and Heaven within Had I the world as Alexanders heire Left mee a patrimony high and faire Enough yee 'd think yet I for all this store Except shee whom I love love mee am poore The middle Sister FAIREST Dâ—me nature seems to make your Sisters stand As handmaids that attend on either hand To right or left I turne not Poets say The middle is the best and safest way I view the Temples and I find them three But still the middle Temple goes for mee Your Sisters are like banks on either side Whilst you the Chrystall streame betwixt them glyde T is light at morne and when the day declines But yet the brightest Sun at midday shines Methinks your Sisters stand on either side Lâ—ke Bride-maids you in midle like a Bryde Doubtlesse in you the middle grace I see Oâ— this side Faith on that side Charity My fancy seems to dictate to my sence A Cawsway twixt two Ditches or its fence The smooth and silent floods in midle flow Bâ—â—â—he shores murmur cause thwaters low And now I tell you but what the world knows Full well betwixt two Netles sits a Rosâ— The joviall Journey UP Phaebus up and guild the horizon For love and beauty are a progresse gone Stand not to gaze least thy too curious eye A fairer Daphâ—e in this Coach espic And thou great Prince of winds vouchsafe to us The gentle gusts of sweet breath'd Zepherus Come yee auspicious Choristers of the aire Let these faire Ladies see yee pâ—omise faire Cherp up sweet Syren of the woods nere feare Here is no Tereus come be merry here And if the dust it self too proudly reares Some gentle Cloud rebuke it with its â—eares Let the Earths green Plush and floscular starres out vye The brighter Orbs of the fiâ—st warning skie Let every bâ—ook present soâ—e pretry toy And every hedge be lin'd with travellers joy Grant fates no inauspicious hare may chance To crosse yee through unlucky ignorance But as the morning so the evening may Answer the beauty 〈◊〉 a glorious day Then Sun Wind Birds Raine Earth and flowers conspite A harmony next the â—elestiall Quire And whe◠〈◊〉 meet be your embraces such As lovers that each â—inuâ—s absence grutch Whilst â—ll that see admire your greeting kisse As if the body met the soule in blisse To my Rivall Presenting my Mrs. Gold upon Her Iourney How now my heart of gold what mean these fleeces Hast broke thy heart and given it her in peeces Or didst thou throw thy gold into her lap A ransom for thy ignorant escape Wouldst else be in the list of same enrolld To court thy love like Jove in shours of gold State-policie in faith they wine the Towers That shoot gold bullets at the Governours Thou hast good reason too to use this sort Of golden battery to so strong a fort Beielve mee this was a well cover'd bayt You hope shee will in loves exchang repay 't I hope so to faith it was sauey sport Should you not get her portion mortgag'd fort T' may be you were in feare to loose it and Made an assurance office of her hand Or did the charmefull sparkles of her eye Dant your faint hart int' a delivery Goe charge the country then for it was done I am your witnese beetween sun sun You that your gold thus to a virgin yeild Doubtlesse a bush had robd you in the field How if some theif should steale away her heart And of her portion take thy gold in part This were a double miserie for then you Loose both your gold and your adventure too T may be you think you have good anchor-holde And in her pockets bottom thrust your gold Maidens are mutable be wise beware The wind waves not more unconstant are But you haue balanc'd hir with gold least shee Should suffer shipwrack in her levitie Faith you abuse your selie and her much more To give her monie Give it to a whore For I must answer for her shee don't carrye The needy garb of one that 's mercenarye I wonder shee would take But 't is an old Proverb that none but madfolke refuse gold But all the world should you be now deseited Would say A foole and 's money is soone paited Vpon a Porter Catchiâ—g a Gentlewoman as shee past by him Last night a Porter standing by the pye At Algate saw a handsome lasse com by To whome hee sâ—â—w with all his speede to court her I wonder for