Britannia Triumphans (Britain Triumphing) · chunk 6 of 7
Davenant, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1638 [licensed for performance, Jan 8] (Annals) not in BritDrama · before the Court T12 Olympian gods: Jupiter, Juno, Venus and typicality 0.75 · 481 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Whine not my love, his fury straight will waste him, Stand off a while and see how I'll lambast him. Now look to't Knight, this such a desperate blade is, In Gaul he swinged the valiant sir Amadis! With bow, now Cupid shoot this son of Punk With crossbow else, or pellet out of trunk! I'll strike thee till thou sink where the abode is Of wights that sneak below, called Antipodis. My Art will turn this Combat to delight They shall unto fantastic Music fight. How trivial and how lost thy visions are! Did thy Prophetic Science take such care (When thou wert mortal) with unlawful power To recollect thy ashes, 'gainst this hour, And all for such import? surrender straight This usurpation of thy warmth and weight, And turn to Air, thy Spirit to a wind: Blow thine own dust about, until we find No small remainder of ill gathered thee And like to it, so waste thy memory. Thou Imposture to some dark Region steal The light is killing, cause it doth reveal Thy thin disguise, I'th' dark thou ne'er wilt fade, For dismal plants still prosper in the shade; Thou art a shadow, and observe how all Vain shadows to our eyes stretch and grow tall, Just when the Sun declines to bring in night, So thou dost thrive in darkness, waste in light. Away! Fame (still obedient unto Fate) This happy hour is called to celebrate Britanocles, and those that in this Isle The old with modern virtues reconcile. Away! Fame's universal voice I hear, 'tis fit you vanish quite when they appear. Break forth thou Treasure of our sight, That art the hopeful morn of every day, Whose fair example makes the light, By which Heroic virtue finds her way. O thou, our cheerful morning rise And straight those misty clouds of error clear, Which long have overcast our eyes, And else will darken all this Hemisphere: What to thy Power is hard or strange? Since not alone confined unto the land; Thy Sceptre to a trident change, And straight unruly Seas thou canst command! How hath thy wisdom raised this Isle? Or thee, by what new title shall we call Since it were lessening of thy style, If we should name thee natures Admiral! Thou universal wonder know We all in darkness mourn till thou appear, And by thy absence dulled may grow, To make a doubt if day were ever here! Britanocles, the great and good appears, His Person fills our eyes, his name our ear, His virtue every drooping spirit cheers! Why move these Princes of his train so slow As taking root, they would to Statues grow, But that their wonder of his virtue turns them so! 'Tis fit you mix that wonder with delight, As you were warmed to motion with his sight, So pay the expectation of this night.
seed 43: T53 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Whine not my love, his fury streight will waste him, Stand off a while and see how Ile lambaste him. Now looke to't Knight, this such a desp'rate blade is, In Gaule he swing'd the valiant sir Amadis! With bow, now Cupid shoot this sonne of Puncke With crosse-bow else, or pellet out of trunke! Ile strike thee till thou sink where the abode is Of wights that sneake below, cald Antipodis. My Art will turne this Combat to delight They shall unto fantastick Musick fight. How triviall and how lost thy visions are! Did thy Propheticke Science take such are (When thou wert mortal) with unlawfull power To recollect thy ashes, 'gainst this houre, And all for such import? surrender strait This usurpation of thy warmth and weight, And turne to Aire, thy Spirit to a winde: Blow thine owne dust about, untill we finde No small remainder of ill gatherd thee And like to it, so waste thy memorie. Thou Imposture to some darke Region steale The light is killing, cause it doth reveale Thy thin disguise, I'th darke thou ne're wilt fade, For dismall plants still prosper in the shade; Thou art a shadow, and observe how all Vaine shadowes to our eyes stretch and grow tall, Iust when the Sunne declines to bring in night, So thou dost thrive in darknesse, waste in light. Away! Fame (still obedient unto Fate) This happy houre is call'd to celebrate Britanocles, and those that in this Isle The old with moderne vertues reconcile. Away! Fames universall voyce I heare, Tis fit you vanish quite when they appeare. Breake forth thou Treasure of our sight, That art the hopefull morne of every day, Whose faire example makes the light, By which Heroique vertue findes her way. O thou, our cheerfull morning rise And strait those mistie clouds of errour cleere, Which long have overcast our eyes, And else will darken all this Hemisphere: What to thy Power is hard or strange? Since not alone confinde unto the land; Thy Scepter to a trident change, And strait unruly Seas thou canst command! How hath thy wisedome rais'd this Isle? Or thee, by what new title shall we call Since it were lessning of thy stile, If we should name thee natures Admirall! Thou universall wonder know We all in darknesse mourne till thou appeare, And by thy absence dull'd may grow, To make a doubt if day were ever here! Britanocles, the great and good appeares, His Person fils our eyes, his name our eare, His vertue every drooping spirit cheers! Why move these Princes of his traine so slow As taking root, they would to Statues grow, But that their wonder of his vertue turnes them so! 'Tis fit you mix that wonder with delight, As you were warm'd to motion with his sight, So pay the expectation of this night.