Posts tagged ‘1655’

Thursday, 5 December 2019

Of Christ’s Birth in an Inn by Jeremy Taylor

The blessed Virgin travail’d without pain,
And lodged in an inn;
A glorious star the sign,
But of a greater guest than ever came that way;—
For there He lay,
That is the God of night and day,
And over all the powers of heaven doth reign.
It was the time of great Augustus’ tax,
And then he comes,
That pays all sums,
Ev’n the whole price of lost humanity,
And sets us free
From the ungodly empery
Of sin, and Satan, and of death.
O make our hearts, blest God, thy lodging place;
And in our breast
Be pleased to rest,
For thou lov’st temples better than an inn;
And cause, that sin
May not profane the Deity within,
And sully o’er the ornaments of grace.—Amen.

From: Taylor, Jeremy, The Whole Works of the Right Rev. Jeremy Taylor, D.D., Lord Bishop of Down, Connor, and Dromore. With An Essay, Biographical and Critical, in Three Volumes, Volume III, 1836, Frederick Westley and A. H. Davis: London,  p. 744.

Date: 1655

By: Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667)

Friday, 24 June 2016

A Funeral Elegie, Upon the Death of George Sonds, Esq &c. who was killed by his Brother, Mr. Freeman Sonds, August the 7th, Anno Dom. 1655 by William Annand

Reach me a Handcerchiff; Another yet,
And yet another, for the last is wett;
Nay now a Glass, to bottell up my teares,
For present pressing griefs, and future fears.
Could sighs, could groans, could sobbs, or ought revoak,
That sudden, fatal, fearfull, deadly stroak?
The Muses should be summon’d in by force,
And spend their All, upon his wounded Coarse,
Could measur’d lines, griefs infinit display?
The sacred Nine, with Him who rules the Day,
And all who in Immortall Thrones reside;
In spight of greatness, should a charge abide,
To consecrate, and to adorn his Hearse,
Revive his life, and club unto a Verse.
Or then let Sable darkness, canop’d in night,
Eeclipse them all for ever. Here’s a fight
That ripens sorrow, breaks op’ Griefs magazine,
Horrors great store-house—, compass’d in his Shrine,
Of life, of sense, all are dispossest,
And by one Dagger, loe each heart is peirc’d.

Thy death, thy death, dear soul, might wonder move,
How the Old Serpent, thus should kill the Dove.
Thy habits so refulgently did shine,
That we knew ought, but what was thought divine.
In thy expyring, it was made appear
In bloody Wounds, the Trinitie was clear.
The gates through which thy fertil soul did mount
To bless’d aboads, came to the full account
Of Twelve, or four times three, And three
“Hath ever in it some great My steric.

Nor was it for thy good, dear heart,
That Heaven thus suffer’d man to act his part.
But as Gods hand mayd Nature, doth not eye,
Nor this, nor that, but all in part doth spye:
So here God acts, in manner so so ample,
That All may have thee; Alwayes for example
Of this lifes frailty, most stupid here may know,
“There’s no abiding City, here below.
Behold the reaking blood, heart sign’d with murther staines,
Wisdoms great Citadel defac’d, empty veines,
Of one so young, so good, so lov’d of all,
After the closure of a Festivall.
So gentle, modest, rich, discreet and wise,
In dawning of his youth to close his eyes!
None more in Grace, in Speech, in featur,
Destroy’d, ’cause none in Grace, in Speech, was greater.
The best of Sonnes, Heires, Friends, of Masters,
Thus bath’d in his own blood; O sad disasters!
Good God, what can, what shall, mans frailty thinke,
When thy great goodnese, at this Act did winke?
But thou art just, perhaps thou thought’st it sitt,
And Lord unto thy Judgement I submit.

Rest happy Soul above,
with God in Love;
Where malice, hate, is out of date.
Expecting still the end
That Pious souls attend.

Vivet Post funera virtue.

From: Annand, William, A funeral elegie, upon the death of George Sonds, Esq; &c. Who was killed by his brother, Mr. Freeman Sonds, August the 7th. anno Dom. 1655. By William Annand Junior, of Throwligh. Whereunto is annexed a prayer, compiled by his sorrowfull father Sir George Sonds, and used in his family during the life of the said Freeman, 2009, Text Creation Partnership: Ann Arbor, Michigan and Oxford, pp. [unnumbered].

Date: 1655

By: William Annand (1633-1689)

Saturday, 21 May 2016

Invitation to Dalliance by John Mennes

Be not thou so foolish nice,
As to be intreated twice;
What should Women more incite,
Then their own sweet appetite?

Shall savage things more freedom have
Than nature unto Women gave?
The Swan, the Turtle, and the Sparrow
Bill a while, then take the marrow.
They Bill, they Kisse, what else they doe
Come Bill, and Kisse, and I’le shew you.

From: Mennes, John, Musarum deliciæ: or, The Muses recreation. Conteining severall select pieces of sportive wit, 2008, Text Creation Partnership: Ann Arbor, Michigan and Oxford, p. 58.

Date: 1655

By: John Mennes (1599-1671)

Friday, 10 July 2015

Mutual Love by William Hammond

From our Loves, heat and light are taught to twine,
In their bright nuptial bed of solar beams;
From our Loves, Thame and Isis learn to join,
Losing themselves in one another’s streams.
And if Fate smile, the fire Love’s emblem bears,
If not, the water represents our tears.

From our Loves all magnetic virtue grows,
Steel to th’ obdurate loadstone is inclin’d.
From our Loves all the power of chymists flows,
Earth by the Sun is into gold refin’d.
And if Fate smile, this shall Love’s arrows head,
If not, in those is our hard fortune read.

From our still springing Loves the youthful Bays
Is in a robe of lasting verdure drest,
From our firm Loves the Cypress learns to raise,
Green in despight of storms, her deathless crest.
And if Fate smile, with that our temples bound,
If not, with this our hearses shall be crown’d.


Date: 1655

By: William Hammond (1614-16??)