Coelum Britannicum (The British Heaven) · chunk 13 of 15
Carew, Thomas · published 1640 · first performed or written 1634 [Feb 18] (Annals) masque · before the Court unassigned nearest T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and · 522 words · other edition — not in the analysis
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 faire cup, where deadly poison lurks. Within, a thousand sorrows dance the round; And like a shell, Pain circle's thee without, Grief is the shadow waiting on thy steps, Which, as thy joys 'ginne 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 Circean 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. (have Canst thou then dream, those Powers, that from heaven 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 plead, 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 no body bid me welcome; so I'll depart as abruptly without taking leave, and bid no body farewell. These, with forced reasons, and strained arguments, Urge vain presences, 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, what ever elder times can boast, Noble, or Great; as they in Prophecy Were all but what you are. Then shall you see The sacred hand of bright Eternity Mould you to Stars, and fix 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 be hold 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 , Thou hast with cunning artifice display'd Th' enamel'd outside, and the honied verge Of the saie cup, where deadly poyson lurks. 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 sorme extend Thy Dwarfish stature. Thou thy selse art Paine, Greedy, intense Desire, and the keene edge Of thy fierce Appetite, oft strangles thee, And cuts thy slender thread; but still the terrour And apprehension of thy hasty end, Mingles with Gall thy most refined sweets; Yet thy Cyrcan 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. (have Canst thou then dreame, those Powers, that from heaven Banish'd th' effect, will there enthrone th' cause? To thy voluptuous Denne, fly Witch, from hence, 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 me welcome; so I'le depart as abruptly without taking leave, and bid no body fare-well. These, with forc'd reasons, and strain'd arguments, Vrge vaine presences, 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 Honours 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 ancient Worthies of these famous Isles, That long have slept, in fresh and lively shapes Shall strait appeare, where you shall see your selfe 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 Eternity Mould you to Stars, and fix 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 be hold the rude And old Abiders here, and in them view The point from which your full perfections grew. You naked, ancient, wild Inhabitants, That breath'd this Ayre, and prest this flowery Earth, Come from those shades where dwels eternall night, And see what wonders Time hath brought to light.