The Seven Champions of Christendom · chunk 25 of 43
Kirke, John · published 1638 · first performed or written 1635 [1634-1638] (Annals) romance · Red Bull Company (second) · Red Bull unassigned nearest T13 Knights, squires and ladies · 465 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T13: knight, raph, lady, knights, george, master, squire, rafe, pray, god.
Great Ormand, haste unto thy powerful charms, We will assist thee in what Hell can do, With strength, with horror, and detested shapes, To daunt the courage of this Northern Knight, That comes to fetch the head of Ormandine. I read the same here too; be swift my Tarpax, Summon up hell's host to be my Guardians 'Gainst this Northern Knight: put out the golden Candle Of the day with horrid darkness from the night below: Unchain the winds, send out our fiery rains, Break Atlas back with Thunder through the clouds, And dart your quick-past lightning at his face: Raise Earthquakes shaking round about his steps, To bandy him from one place to another; Let horror empty all her store-house: If Ormandine can vanquish but this Knight, Secure and firm still stand our power and might. How shall I style this Tartar? I cannot say he's noble, nor yet base: h'as given me life, But with that strange adventure, That he himself is confident I perish: My Knightly Oath assures him I will on, and setting on, Am sure enough to fall: unhappy David in that PRINCE's death, Whom Fates, no will of mine, gave so unkind a meeting; For which the sable plume and Corslet I do wear, As a true Emblem of my inward sorrow: Rest Princely ashes in a golden Urn, Whilst wretched David in a work is sent, To his own sad Requiems bitterment, And be mine own destroyer: take courage yet, Let not base fear steal from thy heart the name of man away, Death cannot dress himself in such a shape, But I dare meet him; on then in pursuit of a Knightly vow, If 't chance Dice run so, that we must fall, Fame shall wear black at David's Funeral. he's now within a Mile and less of us; Spirits away, each fall unto his task, Whilst I raise storms which may dismay the Knight. Yonder's the place, mine eye hath reached it: Now Ormandine, our bloody game begins, Heads are our stakes, and there's but one can win. Protect me Heaven, what sudden strange Eclipse do I behold The golden Sun that now smiled in my face, Draws in his beams, and robes himself in black: In what a dark veil is the clear azured sky! You do begin to entertain me Ormandy, But we'll have better welcome ere we part: ay, let your thunder come, we dread it not; What send ye Fire-drakes too to meet with us? Your worst of horror is best welcome to me: Your ministers rather invite me on, than like to bugbears Fright me back again: more visitants of hell-bred sorcery? I must needs through, or sink. There's nothing we can do, Can quell the valour of this Christian Knight.
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)
Great Ormand, haſte unto thy powerfull charmes, We will aſſiſt thee in what Hell can doe, With ſtrength, with horrour, and deteſted ſhapes, To daunt the courage of this Northerne Knight, That comes to fetch the head of Ormandine. I read the ſame here too; be ſwift my Tarpax, Summon up Hells hoaſt to be my Guardians 'Gainſt this Northerne Knight: put out the golden Candle Of the day with horrid darkneſſe from the night below: Vnchain the windes, ſend out our fiery raines, Breake Atlas backe with Thunder through the clouds, And dart your quick-paſt lightning at his face: Raiſe Earthquakes ſhaking round about his ſteps, To bandy him from one place to another; Let horrour empty all her ſtore-houſe: If Ormandine can vanquiſh but this Knight, Secure and firme ſtill ſtand our power and might. How ſhall I ſtyle this Tartar? I cannot ſay hee's noble, nor yet baſe: h'as given me life, But with that ſtrange adventure, That he himſelfe is confident I periſh: My Knighly Oath aſſures him I will on, and ſetting on, Am ſure enough to fall: unhappy David in that Princes death, Whom Fates, no will of mine, gave ſo unkind a meeting; For which the ſable plume and Corſlet I doe weare, As a true Embleme of my inward ſorrow: Reſt Princely aſhes in a golden Vrne, Whilſt wretched David in a worke is ſent, To his owne ſad Requiems bitterment, And be mine owne deſtroyer: take courage yet, Let not baſe feare ſteal from thy heart the name of man away, Death cannot dreſſe himſelfe in ſuch a ſhape, But I dare meete him; on then in purſuit of a Knightly vow, If 't chance Dice run ſo, that we muſt fall, Fame ſhall weare black at Davids Funerall. Hee's now within a Mile and leſſe of us; Spirits away, each fall unto his taske, Whilſt I raiſe ſtormes which may diſmay the Knight. Yonder's the place, mine eye hath reacht it: Now Ormandine, our bloody game begins, Heads are our ſtakes, and there's but one can winne. Protect me Heaven, what ſudden ſtrange Eclipſe do I behold The golden Sun that now ſmil'd in my face, Drawes in his beames, and robes himſelfe in black: In what a darke vaile is the cleare azur'd sky! You do begin to entertaine me Ormandy, But wee'le have better welcome e're we part: I, let your thunder come, we dread it not; What ſend yee Fire-drakes too to meet with us? Your worſt of horrour is beſt welcome to me: Your miniſters rather invite me on, than like to bug-beares Fright me back agen: more viſitants of hell-bred ſorcery? I muſt needs through, or ſinke. There's nothing we can doe, Can quell the valour of this Chriſtian Knight.