Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Made thundering Mars (Dissensions common friend,) Amongst the forward Soldiers first descend, Armed with his blood-besmeared keen cutlass. Who first attempted to excite to Arms, The troops enraged with the Trumpets sound, Headlong to run and reck no after harms, Where in the flowered Meads dead men were found; Falling as thick (through warlike cruelty,) As ears of Corn for want of husbandry; That (wasteful) shed their grain upon the ground. O war, if thou were subject but to death, And by desert might'st fall to Phlegethon, The torment that Ixion suffereth, Or his whose soul the Vulture seizeth on, Were all too little to reward thy wrath: Nor all the plagues, that fiery Pluto hath The most outrageous sinners laid upon. Accursed Caitiffs, wretches that we are, Perceive we not that for the fatal dumb, The Fates make haste enough: but we (by war) Must seek in Hell to have a hapless room. Or fast enough do foolish men not die, But they (by murder of themselves) must hie, Hopeless to hide them in a hapless tomb? All sad and desolate our City lies, And (for fair Corn-ground are our fields surcloyed) With worthless Gorse, that yearly fruitless dies; And choke the good which else we bade enjoyed. Death dwells within us, and if gentle Peace Descend not soon, our sorrows to surcease, Latium (already quailed) will be destroyed. AND will ye needs bedew my dead-grown joys, And nourish sorrow with eternal tears? O eyes, and will ye (cause I cannot dry Your ceaseless springs) not suffer me to die? Then make the blood fro forth my branch-like veins, Like weeping Rivers trickle by your vaults; And sponge my Body's heat of moisture so, As my displeased soul may shun my heart. heavens let me die, and let the Destinies, Admit me passage to th'infernal Lake; That my poor ghost, may rest where powerful fate, In Death's sad kingdom hath my husband lodged. fain would I die, but darksome ugly Death, Withholds his dart, and in disdain doth fly me, Maliciously knowing that hell's horror, Is milder than mine endless discontent. And that if Death upon my life should seize, The pain supposed would procure mine ease. But ye sad Powers that rule the silent deeps, Of dead-sad Night, where sins do mask unseen: You that amongst the darksome mansions Of pining ghosts, twixt sighs, and sobs and tears, Do exercise your mirthless Empory. Ye gods (at whose arbitrament all stand,) Dislodge my soul, and keep it with yourselves, For I am more than half your prisoner. My noble husbands (more than noble souls,) Already wander under your commands. O then shall wretched I, that am but one, (Yet once both theirs,) survive now they are gone? Alas thou shouldst, thou shouldst Cornelia, Have broke the sacred thread that tide thee here, whenas thy husband Crassus (in his flower) Did first bear Arms, and bore away my love.
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)
Made thundring Mars (Dissentions common friend,) Amongst the forward Souldiers first discend, Arm'd with his blood-besmeard keene Coutelace. VVho first attempted to excite to Armes, The troopes enraged with the Trumpets sound, Head-long to runne and reck no after harmes, VVhere in the flowred Meades dead men were found; Falling as thick (through warlike crueltie,) As eares of Corne for want of husbandry; That (wastfull) shed their graine vppon the ground. O warre, if thou were subiect but to death, And by desert mighst fall to Phlegiton, The torment that Ixion suffereth, Or his whose soule the Vulter seazeth on, VVere all too little to reward thy wrath: Nor all the plagues, that fierie Pluto hath The most outragious sinners layd vpon. Accursed Catiues, wretches that wee are, Perceiue we not that for the fatall dombe, The Fates make hast enough: but we (by warre) Must seeke in Hell to haue a haples roome. Or fast enough doe foolish men not die, But they (by murther of themselues) must hie, Hopeles to hide them in a haples tombe? All sad and desolate our Citty lyes, And (for faire Corne-ground are our fields surcloid) VVith worthles Gorse, that yerely fruitles dyes; And choake the good which els we bad enioy'd. Death dwels within vs, and if gentle Peace Discend not soone, our sorrowes to surcease, Latium (alreadie quaild) will be destroyd. AND wil ye needs bedew my dead-grown ioyes, And nourish sorrow with eternall teares? O eyes, and will yee (cause I cannot dry Your ceaselesse springs) not suffer me to die? Then make the blood fro forth my branch-like vaines, Lyke weeping Riuers trickle by your vaults; And spunge my bodies heate of moisture so, As my displeased soule may shunne my hart. Heauens let me dye, and let the Destinies, Admit me passage to th'infernall Lake; That my poore ghost, may rest where powerfull fate, In Deaths sad kingdom hath my husband lodg'd. Fayne would I die, but darksome vgly Death, With-holds his darte, and in disdaine doth flye me, Malitiously knowing that hels horror, Is mylder then mine endles discontent. And that if Death vpon my life should seaze, The payne supposed would procure mine ease. But yee sad Powers that rule the silent deepes, Of dead-sad Night, where sinnes doe maske vnseene: You that amongst the darksome mansions Of pyning ghosts, twixt sighes, and sobs and teares, Do exercise your mirthlesse Empory. Yee gods (at whose arbitrament all stand,) Dislodge my soule, and keepe it with your selues, For I am more then halfe your prysoner. My noble husbands (more then noble soules,) Already wander vnder your commaunds. O then shall wretched I, that am but one, (Yet once both theyrs,) suruiue now they are gone? Alas thou shouldst, thou shouldst Cornelia, Haue broke the sacred thred that tyde thee heere, When as thy husband Crassus (in his flowre) Did first beare Armes, and bare away my loue.