Coelum Britannicum (The British Heaven) · chunk 8 of 15
Carew, Thomas · published 1634 · first performed or written 1634 [Feb 18] (Annals) masque · before the Court T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions typicality 0.77 · 489 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
If Virtue must inherit, she's my slave; I lead her captive in a golden chain, About the world: She takes her Form and Being From my creation; and those barren seeds That drop from Heaven, if I not cherish them With my distilling dews, and fotive heat, They know no vegetation; but exposed To blasting winds of freezing Poverty, Or not shoot forth at all, or budding, wither: Should I proclaim the daily sacrifice Brought to my Temples by the toiling rout, Not of the fat and gore of abject Beasts, But human sweat, and blood poured on my Altars, I might provoke the envy of the gods. Turn but your eyes and mark the busy world, Climbing steep Mountains for the sparkling stone, piercing the Centre for the shining Ore, And th' Ocean's bosom to rake pearly sands, Crossing the torrid and the frozen Zones, midst Rocks and swallowing Gulfs, for gainful trade, And though opposing swords, fire, murdering Canon, scaling the walled Town for precious spoils: Plant in the passage to your heavenly seats, These horrid dangers, and then see who dares Advance his desperate foot; yet am I sought, And oft in vain, through these, and greater hazards; I could discover how your Deities Are for my sake slighted, despised, abused, Your Temples, Shrines, Altars, and Images Uncovered, rifled, robbed, and disarrayed By sacrilegious hands: yet is this treasure To th' golden Mountain, where I sit adored With superstitious solemn rights conveyed, And becomes sacred there, the sordid wretch Not daring touch the consecrated Ore, Or with profane hands lessen the bright heap; But this might draw your anger down on mortals For rendering me the homage due to you: Yet what is said may well express my power Too great for Earth, and only fit for Heaven. Now, for you pastime, view the naked root, Which in the dirty earth, and base mould drowned, Sends forth this precious Plant, and golden fruit. You lusty Swains, that to your grazing flocks Pipe amorous Roundelays; you toiling Hinds, That barb the fields, and to your merry Teams Whistle your passions; and you mining Moles, That in the bowels of your mother-Earth Dwell the eternal burden of her womb, Cease from your labours, when Wealth bids you play, Sing, dance, and keep a cheerful holiday. Plutus, the gods know and confess your power Which feeble Virtue seldom can resist; Stronger than Towers of brass, or Chastity; Iove knew you when he courted Danae, And Cupid wears you on that Arrows head That still prevails. But the gods keep their Thrones To install Virtue, not her Enemies. They dread thy force, which even themselves have felt, Witness Mount-Ida, where the Martial Maid, And frowning Iuno, did to mortal eyes Naked, for gold, their sacred bodies show, Therefore for ever be from heaven banished. But since with toil from undiscovered Worlds Thou art brought hither, where thou first didst breathe
seed 43: T13 · seed 44: T16 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
If Vertue muſt inherit, ſhee's my ſlave; I lead her captive in a golden chaine, About the world: She takes her Forme and Being From my creation; and thoſe barren ſeeds That drop from Heaven, if I not cheriſh them With my diſtilling dewes, and fotive heat, They know no vegetation; but expos'd To blaſting winds of freezing Poverty, Or not ſhoot forth at all, or budding, wither: Should I proclaime the daily ſacrifice Brought to my Temples by the toyling rout, Not of the fat and gore of abject Beaſts, But human ſweat, and blood powr'd on my Altars, I might provoke the envy of the gods. Turne but your eyes and marke the buſie world, Climbing ſteepe Mountaines for the ſparkling ſtone, Piereing the Center for the ſhining Ore, And th' Oceans boſome to rake pearly ſands, Croſſing the torrid and the frozen Zones, 'Midſt Rocks and ſwallowing Gulfes, for gainfull trade, And though oppoſing ſwords, fire, murdring Canon, Skaling the walled Towne for precious ſpoyles: Plant in the paſſage to your heavenly ſeats, Theſe horrid dangers, and then ſee who dares Advance his deſperate foot; yet am I ſought, And oft in vaine, through theſe, and greater hazards; I could diſcover how your Deities Are for my ſake ſleighted, deſpis'd, abus'd, Your Temples, Shrines, Altars, and Images Vncover'd, rifled, rob'd, and diſarray'd By ſacrilegious hands: yet is this treaſure To th' golden Mountaine, where I ſit ador'd With ſuperſtitious ſolemne rights convay'd, And becomes ſacred there, the ſordid wretch Not daring touch the conſecrated Ore, Or with prophane hands leſſen the bright heape; But this might draw your anger downe on mortals For rendring me the homage due to you: Yet what is ſaid may well expreſſe my power Too great for Earth, and onely fit for Heaven. Now, for you paſtime, view the naked root, Which in the dirty earth, and baſe mould drown'd, Sends forth this precious Plant, and golden fruit. You luſty Swaines, that to your grazing flockes Pipe amorous Roundelayes; you toyling Hinds, That barbe the fields, and to your merry Teames Whiſtle your paſſions; and you mining Moles, That in the bowels of your mother-Earth Dwell the eternall burthen of her wombe, Ceaſe from your labours, when Wealth bids you play, Sing, dance, and keepe a chearefull holyday. Plutus, the gods know and confeſſe your power Which feeble Vertue ſeldome can reſiſt; Stronger then Towers of braſſe, or Chaſtity; Iove knew you when he courted Danae, And Cupid weares you on that Arrowes head That ſtill prevailes. But the gods keepe their Thrones To enſtall Vertue, not her Enemies. They dread thy force, which even themſelves have felt, Witneſſe Mount-Ida, where the Martiall Maid, And frowning Iuno, did to mortall eyes Naked, for gold, their ſacred bodies ſhow, Therefore for ever be from heaven baniſh'd. But ſince with toyle from undiſcover'd Worlds Thou aret brought hither, where thou firſt didſt breathe