A Gallery To The Temple. The Passion (Ralph Knevet Poems)
Who can reviewe, without a pretious losse Of teares, the bitter sorowes of thy crosse (Oh Dearest Lord) Whose corps was gor'd, In every ...
Who can reviewe, without a pretious losse Of teares, the bitter sorowes of thy crosse (Oh Dearest Lord) Whose corps was gor'd, In every ...
Let them, who doe attempt both day and night, To sacke the fort of reason, Perverting Natures lawes, and order quite, Misuseing Time, ...
This life is an Olympicke Game, a Race, Wherein the Victours shall bee crown'd, With liveing bayes; which Time cannot deface: But many ...
If Man knew his own blisse, Or all his capabilityes, Hee would not nayled bee to this low Center, Of earthly pleasures, But would ...
Some, sermons preache, as if they yet had not That old Comedians Aphorisme forgott, Which they in unripe yeares at schoole did ...
The subtile Adder doth refuse to heare Th' Inchanters sound, But layes one eare, Unto the ground, And stoppes the other with his venom'd ...
(Peace) whether ar't thou fled? Thy native soyle Is Christendome: Into what unknowne Ile Ar't Thou retir'd from us? What made thee to estrange ...
I am what, passion will: a stone, or tree: A mad Hercuba or sad Niobe. For who can see such ruines, and ...
The Heavens did mourne: The windes did grinne: These vapours blacke, Their rise did make, From the vast Ocean of our sinne: For from ...
Thou, that dost know thy Starres, canst calculate Thy geniture, and see to what end fate Did lend thee to the earth; ...
I want a volubility of tongue, To trafficke for applause; Although I know the lawes And rights of rhetoricke: I am not strung For ...
My heart is broken (oh my God) Breake mee not like a potters vessell, Bruse mee not with an iron rodde, But forme ...
What shall I render to the Lord, For all his gifts and benefits? What recompence will Hee accord T'accept? what sacrifice befittes Such infinite ...
Arts are th' Egyptian Handmaydes, to the Queene Of sciences: Moses the chiefe of Prophets, and of Men, Did these possesse: Our moderation must ...
If many yeeres in honours service spent; If vertues suting with a brave descent, Can give true lustre to a Name; then ...
When Phoebus is ascendent in the morne, With the old Archer, or cold Capricorne, The world remaines forlorne: The Birds, are then as ...
Self love's th' Arcadian streame, A brittle Lookeinglasse, A transitory dreame, Of what nor is, nor shall ere come to passe. How doth it ...
What medlye Linsy wolsye stuffe Am I made of? I had bene good, and ill enough, If my desires had bene fulfill'd: But God ...
When I (at Rome) beheld poore people fall, Before brasse, stone, and paper painted, Yea every metall, and materiall, That canonized was, and ...
I blesse those calmes, Which gave me leisure, For to endite these holy psalmes, In stead of songs of pleasure. I praise my God, ...
Satan rejoyc'd, when Hee had wonne False Judas, to his wicked will, And made him to betray the Virgins sonne, That so Death's ...
Teach me the art of teares, Thou Lord of joy, learne mee to swimme in sorow, Both at this present, and to ...
The Helmett now an hive for Bees becomes, And hilts of swords may serve for Spiders loomes, Sharp pikes may make, Teeth for ...
If I could weepe my self into a spring, Or a perpetuall current: then This Metamorphosis might seeme a thing Of merit, in ...
Though to the world I seeme to bee, Mix'd in a concurse of societye, Farre from a life contemplative, Yet with a Desert ...
Oh that my unrelenting eyes, Could like two headed Jordan flow, Who doth in swelling pride arise, Enrich'd by Lebanons warme snow. The Cocke ...
T'was time to rise, My Saviour knock't, But I was rock't Asleepe, by lusts, and vanityes: And when I wak'd, My self I found, Environ'd round By ...
Thou bears't the Bottle, I the Bagge (oh Lord) Which daily I doe carry at my backe, So stuff'd with sinne, that ...
The World's a spacious Amphitheater, And wee are slaves each one: The sinne of our first Parents, did conferre This sad condition On us: ...
Th' obdurate Adamant disdaines to feele The hardest Chesills edge; Submitting neither unto stone, nor steele; Yet many doe alleadge, That the warme bloud ...
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