Coelum Britannicum (The British Heaven) · chunk 13 of 15
Carew, Thomas · published 1634 · first performed or written 1634 [Feb 18] (Annals) masque · before the Court unassigned nearest T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and · 520 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Bewitching Siren, guilded rottenness, Thou hast with cunning artifice displayed Th' enameled outside, and the honeyed verge Of the fair cup, where deadly poison lurks. Within, a thousand sorrows dance the round; And like a shell, Pain circles thee without, Grief is the shadow waiting on thy steps, Which, as thy joys' 'gin towards their West decline, Doth to a giant's spreading form extend Thy Dwarfish stature. Thou thyself art Pain, Greedy, intense Desire, and the keen edge Of thy fierce Appetite, oft strangles thee, And cuts thy slender thread; but still the terror And apprehension of thy hasty end, Mingles with Gall thy most refined sweets; Yet thy Cyrcaean charms transform the world. captains, that have resisted war and death, Nations, that over Fortune have triumphed, Are by thy Magic made effeminate. Empires, that knew no limits but the Poles, Have in thy wanton lap melted away. Thou wert the Author of the first excess That drew this reformation on the gods. Canst thou then dream, those Powers, that from heaven have Banished th' effect, will there enthrone th' cause? To thy voluptuous Den, fly Witch, from hence, There dwell, for ever drowned in brutish sense. I concur, and am grown so weary of these tedious pleadings, as I'll pack up too and be gone: Besides, I see a crowd of other suitors pressing hither, I'll stop 'em, take their petitions and prefer 'em above; and as I came in bluntly without knocking, and nobody bid me welcome; so I'll depart as abruptly without taking leave, and bid nobody fare well. These, with forced reasons, and strained arguments, Urge vain pretences, whilst your Actions plead, And with a silent importunity Awake the drowsy justice of the gods To Crown your deeds with immortality. The growing Titles of your Ancestors, These Nations glorious Acts, joined to the stock Of your own Royal virtues, and the clear Reflex they take from th'imitation Of your famed Court, make honour's story full, And have to that secure fixed state advanced Both you and them, to which the labouring world, Wading through streams of blood, sweats to aspire. Those ancient Worthies of these famous Isles, That long have slept, in fresh and lively shapes Shall straight appear, where you shall see yourself Circled with modern Heroes, who shall be In Act, whatever elder times can boast, Noble, or Great; as they in Prophesy Were all but what you are. Then shall you see The sacred hand of bright Eternity Mould you to Stars, and six you in the Sphere. To you, your Royal half, to them she'll join Such of this train, as with industrious steps In the fair prints your virtuous feet have made, Though with unequal paces, follow you. This is decreed by Iove, which my return Shall see performed; but first behold the rude And old Abiders here, and in them view The point from which your full perfections grew. You naked, ancient wild Inhabitants, That breathed this Air, and pressed this flowery Earth, Come from those shades where dwells eternal night, And see what wonders Time hath brought to light.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Bewitching Syren, guilded rottenneſſe, Thou haſt with cunning artifice diſplay'd Th' enamel'd outſide, and the honied verge Of the faire cup, where deadly poyſon lurkes. Within, a thouſand ſorrowes dance the round; And like a ſhell, Paine circles thee without, Griefe is the ſhadow waiting on thy ſteps, Which, as thy joyes' ginne tow'rds their Weſt decline, Doth to a Gyants ſpreading forme extend Thy Dwarfiſh ſtature. Thou thy ſelfe art Paine, Greedy, intenſe Deſire, and the keene edge Of thy fierce Appetite, oft ſtrangles thee, And cuts thy ſlender thread; but ſtill the terror And apprehenſion of thy haſty end, Mingles with Gall thy moſt refined ſweets; Yet thy Cyrcaean charmes transforme the world. Captaines, that have reſiſted warre and death, Nations, that over Fortune have triumph'd, Are by thy Magicke made effeminate. Empires, that knew no limits but the Poles, Have in thy wanton lap melted away. Thou wert the Author of the firſt exceſſe That drew this reformation on the gods. Canſt thou then dreame, thoſe Powers, that from heaven have Baniſh'd th' effect, will there enthrone th' cauſe? To thy voluptuous Denne, flye Witch, from henee, There dwell, for ever drown'd in brutiſh ſenſe. I concurre, and am growne ſo weary of theſe tedious pleadings, as I'le packe up too and be gone: Beſides, I ſee a crowd of other ſuitors preſſing hither, I'le ſtop' em, take their petitions and preferre 'em above; and as I came in bluntly without knocking, and no body bid mee welcome; ſo I'le depart as abruptly without taking leave, and bid no bodie fare well. Theſe, with forc'd reaſons, and ſtrain'd arguments, Vrge vaine pretences, whilſt your Actions plead, And with a ſilent importunity Awake the drouſie Iuſtice of the gods To Crowne your deeds with immortality. The growing Titles of your Anceſtors, Theſe Nations glorious Acts, joyn'd to the ſtocke Of your owne Royall vertues, and the cleare Reflexe they take from th'imitation Of your fam'd Court, make Honors ſtorie full, And have to that ſecure fix'd ſtate advanc'd Both you and them, to which the labouring world, Wading through ſtreames of blood, ſweats to aſpire. Thoſe antient Worthies of theſe famous Iſles, That long have ſlept, in freſh and lively ſhapes Shall ſtraight appeare, where you ſhall ſee your ſelf Circled with moderne Heroes, who ſhall be In Act, what-ever elder times can boaſt, Noble, or Great; as they in Propheſie Were all but what you are. Then ſhall you ſee The ſacred hand of bright Eternitie Mould you to Stars, and ſix you in the Spheare. To you, your Royall halfe, to them ſhee'll joyne Such of this traine, as with induſtrious ſteps In the faire prints your vertuous feet have made, Though with unequall paces, follow you. This is decreed by Iove, which my returne Shall ſee perform'd; but firſt behold the rude And old Abiders here, and in them view The point from which your full perfections grew. You naked, antient wild Inhabitants, That breath'd this Ayre, and preſt this flowery Earth, Come from thoſe ſhades where dwells eternall night, And ſee what wonders Time hath brought to light.