Luminalia, or The Festival of Light · chunk 1 of 3
Davenant, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1638 [Feb 6] (Annals) not in BritDrama · before the Court unassigned nearest T19 Virtue, Fortune and Vice as abstractions · 460 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T19: virtue, fortune, virtues, honour, fame, vice, envy, world, pride, great.
In wet and cloudy mists, I slowly rise, As with mine own dull weight oppressed. To close with sleep the jealous lovers eyes, And give forsaken virgin's rest. Th' adventurous Merchant and the Mariner, (Whom storms all day vex in the deep) Begin to trust the winds when I appear, And lose their dangers in their sleep. The studious that consume their brains and sight, In search where doubtful knowledge lies, Grow weary of their fruitless use of light, And wish my shades to ease their eyes. Th' ambitious toiling Statesman that prepares Great mischiefs ere the day begins, Not measures day by hours, but by his cares; And night must intermit his sins. Then why, when my slow Chariot used to climb, Did old mistaking Sages weep? As if my Empire did usurp their time, And hours were lost when spent in sleep. I come to ease their labours and prevent That weariness which would destroy: The profit of their toils are still misspent Till rest enables to enjoy. The third in purple, and black, on her head a dormouse. The Chariot of Night being arrived to the middle of the air, stayed, and after some dialogue with her attendants, she ascends singing, and is hidden in the clouds. Why dreadful Queen dost thou appear, So early in this Hemisphere? Where all to triumphs are addressed, As they did need as little rest As wandering Planets have above; Who ne'er are tired, yet ever move. As little weary as are they; As free from sufferings and decay, Or fear of fleeting times expense; Not tired, with weight, or vexed with sense. Why would Oblivion mix with these that strive, To raise new joys, and keep the old alive? What is the use of silence here? Thou seest (great Empress) every eye, Doth watch for measures, every ear Doth harken after harmony. Why are we come to give their labours ease? That reckon sleep a death, rest a disease: And all this Isle their triumphs now express, Not to beget, but show their happiness: A precious sign, they know their own estate, And that makes Nations chiefly fortunate: For it alike should often valued be, To know, as to deserve felicity. You just, and careful Registers of hours, And you whose several ever useful powers, Dispose and make me pleasing whilst I sway, Produce fantastic creatures of the night, Though not t' advance, yet vary their delight; Perhaps these triumphs may defer the day. All that our striving mystery presents Will be but foils to nobler ornaments, Yet I so trust the causes of their joy, And am so envious of those glistering shows The Sun in pride, not favour doth disclose, That I would lengthen what I can't destroy.
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)
In wet and cloudy mists, I ſloowly riſe, As with mine owne dull weight opprest. To cloſe with ſleep the jealous lovers eyes, And give forſaken Virgins rest. Th' adventrous Merchant and the Mariner, (Whom ſtormes all day vex in the deep) Beginne to trust the windes when I appeare, And loſe their dangers in their ſleep. The ſtudious that conſume their brains and ſight, In ſearch where doubtfull knowledge lies, Grow wearie of their fruitleſſe uſe of light, And wiſh my ſhades to eaſe their eyes. Th' ambitious toyling Stateſman that prepares Great miſchiefes ere the day begins, Not meaſures day by houres, but by his cares; And night must intermit his ſinnes. Then why, when my ſlow Chariot us'd to clime, Did old mistaking Sages weepe? As if my Empire did uſurpe their time, And houres were lost when ſpent in ſleep. I come to eaſe their labours and prevent That wearineſſe which would destroy: The profit of their toyles are ſtill miſſ-ſpent Till rest enables to enjoy. The third in purple, and black, on her head a dormouſe. The Chariot of Night being arrived to the middle of the aire, ſtaid, and after ſome dialogue with her attendants, ſhee aſcends ſinging, and is hidden in the clouds. Why dreadfull Queen doſt thou appeare, So early in this Hemiſphere? Where all to triumphs are addreſt, As they did need as little reſt As wandring Planets have above; Who ne're are tir'd, yet ever move. As little wearie as are they; As free from ſuffrings and decay, Or feare of fleeting times expence; Not tir'd, with weight, or vex'd with ſenſe. Why would Oblivion mix with theſe that ſtrive, To raiſe new joyes, and keep the old alive? What is the uſe of ſilence here? Thou ſee'st (great Empreſſe) ev'ry eie, Doth watch for meaſures, ev'ry eare Doth hearken after harmony. Why are we come to give their labours eaſe? That reckon ſleepe a death, reſt a diſeaſe: And all this Iſle their triumphs now expreſſe, Not to beget, but ſhew their happineſſe: A precious ſigne, they know their owne estate, And that makes Nations chiefly fortunate: For it alike ſhould often valued be, To know, as to deſerve felicitie. You just, and carefull Registers of houres, And you whoſe ſev'rall ever uſefull powers, Diſpoſe and make me pleaſing whilst I ſway, Produce fantasticke creatures of the night, Though not t' advance, yet vary their delight; Perhaps theſe triumphs may defer the day. All that our ſtriving miſtery preſents Will be but foiles to nobler ornaments, Yet I ſo trust the cauſes of their joy, And am ſo envious of thoſe glistring ſhowes The Sunne in pride, not favour doth diſcloſe, That I would lengthen what I can't deſtroy.