Anonymous · published 1600 · first performed or written 1600 [1599-1600] (Annals) pastoral; romance · Children of Paul's (second) T24 Apollo, Phoebus and the Muses typicality 0.88 · 487 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T24: apollo, phoebus, midas, muses, ears, play, hedone, gods, siren, time.
Great God, the grievous travels I have passed, In restless search, to find her out at last: My plaints my toils, in lieu of my annoy, Have well deserved my Lady to enjoy. Penance too much I have sustained before: Oh Phoebus, plague me not with any more. Nor be thou so extreme, now at the worst To make my torments greater than at the first. My Father's late displeasure is forgot, And there's no let, nor any churlish blot To interrupt our joys from being complete, But only thy good favour to entreat: In thy great grace it lies to make my state Most happy now, or most infortunate. Heavenly Apollo, on our knees I pray, Vouchsafe thy great displeasure to allay. What honour to thy Godhead will arise, To plague a silly Lady in this wise? Beside, it is a stain unto thy Deity, To yield thine own desires the sovereignty: Then show some grace unto a woeful Dame, And in these groves, our tongues shall sound thy fame. Arise dear nurses of divinest skill, You sacred Muses of Parnassus hill: Phoebus is conquered by your dear respect, And will no longer clemency neglect. You have not sued nor prayed to me in vain: I grant your wills, she is a maid again. Thy praise shall never die whilst I do live. Nor will we slack perpetual thanks to give. Thalia, near the Cave where she remains The Fairies keep, request them of their pains, And in my name, bid them forthwith provide, From that dark place, to be the ladies' guide. And in the bounty of their liberal mind, To give her clothes according to her kind. I go divine Apollo. Haste again. No time too swift, to ease a lovers pain. Most sacred Phoebus, endless thanks to thee, That dost vouchsafe so much to pity me. And aged father, for your kindness shown, Imagine not your friendship ill bestown. The earth shall sooner vanish and decay, Than I will prove unthankful any way. It is sufficient recompense to me, If that my silly help have pleasured ye. If you enjoy your Love and heart's desire, It is enough: nor do I more require. Grave Aramanthus, now I see thy face I call to mind, how tedious a long space Thou hast frequented these sad deserts here, Thy time employed, in heedful mind I bear: The patient sufferance of thy former wrong, Thy poor estate, and sharp exile so long, The honourable port thou borest sometime, Till wronged thou wast, with undeserved crime By them whom thou to honour didst advance, The memory of which thy heavy chance, Provokes my mind to take remorse on thee, Father henceforth, my client shalt thou be: And pass the remnant of thy fleeting time, With Laurel wreath, amongst the Muses nine. And when thy age hath given place to fate, Thou shalt exchange thy former mortal state:
seed 43: T29 · seed 44: T27 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Great God, the greeuous trauells I haue paſt, In reſtleſſe ſearch, to find her out at laſt: My plaints my toiles, in lieu of my annoy, Haue well deſeru'd my Lady to enioy. Penance too much I haue ſuſtaind before: Oh Phoebus, plague me not with any more. Nor be thou ſo extreame, now at the worſt To make my torments greater than at the firſt▪ My Fathers late diſpleaſure is forgot, And theres no let, nor any churliſh blot To interrupt our ioyes from being compleat, But only thy good fauour to intreat: In thy great grace it lyes to make my ſtate Moſt happie now, or moſt infortunate. Heauenly Apollo, on our knees I pray, Vouchſafe thy great diſpleaſure to allay. What honor to thy Godhead will ariſe, To plague a ſilly Lady in this wiſe? Beſide, it is a ſtaine vnto thy Deitie, To yeeld thine owne deſires the ſoueraigntie: Then ſhew ſome grace vnto a wofull Dame, And in theſe groues, our tongues ſhall ſound thy fame. Ariſe deare Nourſes of diuineſt skill, You ſacred Muſes of Pernaſſus hill: Phoebus is conquerd by your deare reſpect, And will no longer clemency neglect. You haue not ſude nor praide to me in vaine: I graunt your willes, ſhe is a mayd againe. Thy praiſe ſhal neuer die whilſt I do liue. Nor will we ſlack perpetual thankes to giue. Thalia, neare the Caue where ſhe remaines The Fayries keepe, requeſt them of their paines, And in my name, bid them forthwith prouide, From that darke place, to be the Ladies guide. And in the bountie of their liberall minde, To giue her cloathes according to her kinde. I goe diuine Apollo. Haſte againe. No time too ſwift, to eaſe a Louers paine. Moſt ſacred Phoebus, endles thankes to thee, That doeſt vouchſafe ſo much to pittie mee. And aged father, for your kindneſſe ſhowne, Imagine not your friendſhip ill beſtowne. The earth ſhall ſooner vaniſh and decay, Than I will proue vnthankfull any way. It is ſufficient recompence to me, If that my ſilly helpe haue pleaſurde ye. If you enioy your Loue and hearts deſire, It is enough: nor doo I more require. Graue Aramanthus, now I ſee thy face I call to minde, how tedious a long ſpace Thou haſt frequented theſe ſad deſarts here, Thy time imployed, in heedfull minde I beare: The patient ſufferance of thy former wrong, Thy poore eſtate, and ſharpe exile ſo long, The honourable port thou bor'ſt ſometime, Till wrongd thou waſt, with vndeſerued crime By them whom thou to honour didſt aduance, The memory of which thy heauy chance, Prouokes my minde to take remorſe on thee, Father henceforth, my clyent ſhalt thou bee: And paſſe the remnant of thy fleeting time, With Lawrell wreath, amongſt the Muſes nine. And when thy age hath giuen place to fate, Thou ſhalt exchaunge thy former mortall ſtate: