Alexander, William · published 1637 · first performed or written 1603 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T17 Eastern conquest: Persians, Turks and so · 514 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T17: tamburlaine, persian, cyrus, king, mahomet, arms, mighty, assyrian, thousand, army.
WHat thundering power grown jealous of my state, Which (having daunted th'earth) perchance heaven fears Thus armed with lightning, breathing flames of hate, Big with disdain, high indignation bears? Long smoothed of all, whilst I (pale cares despised) In fortune's lap asleep, of greatness dreamed, Even in that calm, my state a storm surprised, And ere I waked, my ruin was proclaimed; Thus I, whose only name did terror give (As Idol of the world,) adored over all, (With crosses compassed,) such a wretch do live, That who admired my might, admire my fall; Ah, then indeed I fell, when gallants stood, And Phoenix like renewed their lives by death; Who having sealed their force, and faith, with blood, Would rather dye, then draw a borrowed breath; Yet I, not I, did view, not venge (though near) Those monstrous mountains of my Subjects slain, Though even my enemies must my courage clear, Which flames of fury lightened forth in vain; Through greatest dangers, death I did pursue, Till heaps of slaughtered bodies barred my way, And changed my Chariot to a scarlet hue, Ere wounded honour could be drawn away; O how I envy yet their happy Ghosts, Who died whilst hope of victory remained, And in the presence of two famous hosts, To praise their valour, even their foes constrained: Shall I survive that memorable shame, Which Persia's glory with disgrace confined? No, rather let me dye, and let my name As vain, quite vanish, razed from every mind. Starre-boasting Babylon, all Asia's Queen, Blush to behold thy King in such a state, That by the gazing world he now is seen, (A scorned futer) humbly to entreat; But not turned vassal, as by power appalled; Though all my Empire to a period come, Yet none shall vaunt that ever I was thralled: Hearts holding courage, are not quite overcome. Should I whose Sovereignty so oft was sworn, Be seen submiss to scape a minute's pains, No, let them bow, who but to bow were borne: For Darius this indignity disdains, Since I was once judged worthy to command, Shall I descend a Subjects state to try? No, whilst a sword yields homage to this hand, I scorn to grant a greater man than I. Brave spirits, who now possess the pleasant bowers, And glorious Gardens of th'Elysian Plains, (For, (if deserts may move th' infernal powers) That happy shade your shadows now contains) Those fatal fields where I did lead you forth, Your bodies bury, but enlarge your fames, Men shall adore the relics of your worth, And Trophies rear to your immortal names; I'll sacrifice as Incense to your souls, His dying sighs, and sorrowing Parents tears, Who now, whilst none his prospering pride controls, Our conquered Ensigns in his triumph bears: For, it may ease your Ghosts to hear his groans, Whilst burdened earth rebounding back doth send A wailing echo (raised from woods and stones,) With wounded words to show that Army's end. Why spend I speeches to disturb your rest, As but with words (an idle speaker) pleased?
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)
WHat thund'ring pow'r grown jealous of my ſtate, Which (having daunted th'earth) perchance heaven fears Thus arm'd with lightning, breathing flames of hate, Big with diſdaine, high indignation beares? Long ſmooth'd of all, whilſt I (pale cares deſpis'd) In fortunes lap aſleep, of greatneſſe dream'd, Even in that calme, my ſtate a ſtorme ſurpris'd, And ere I wak't, my ruine was proclam'd; Thus I, whoſe onely name did terrour give (As Idoll of the world,) ador'd over all, (With croſſes compaſs'd,) ſuch a wretch doe live, That who admir'd my might, admire my fall; Ah, then indeed I fell, when gallants ſtood, And Phoenix like renew'd their lives by death; Who having ſeal'd their force, and faith, with bloud, Would rather dye, then draw a borrowed breath; Yet I, not I, did view, not venge (though neare) Thoſe monſtrous mountaines of my Subjects ſlaine, Though even my enemies muſt my courage cleare, Which flames of fury lightned forth in vaine; Through greateſt dangers, death I did purſue, Till heapes of ſlaughtred bodies barr'd my way, And chang'd my Chariot to a ſcarlet hue, Ere wounded honour could be drawne away; O how I envy yet their happy Ghoſts, Who dy'd whilſt hope of victory remain'd, And in the preſence of two famous hoſts, To praiſe their valour, even their foes conſtrain'd: Shall I ſurvive that memorable ſhame, Which Perſia's glory with diſgrace confin'd? No, rather let me dye, and let my name As vaine, quite vaniſh, raz'd from every minde. Starre-boaſting Babylon, all Aſia's Queene, Bluſh to behold thy King in ſuch a ſtate, That by the gazing world he now is ſeene, (A ſcorned futer) humbly to entreate; But not turn'd vaſſall, as by pow'r appall'd; Though all my Empire to a period come, Yet none ſhall vaunt that ever I was thrall'd: "Hearts holding courage, are not quite o're-come. Should I whoſe Soveraignty ſo oft was ſworne, Be ſeene ſubmiſſe to ſcape a minutes paines, No, let them bow, who but to bow were borne: For Darius this indignity diſdaines, Since I was once judg'd worthy to command, Shall I deſcend a Subjects ſtate to try? No, whilſt a ſword yeelds homage to this hand, I ſcorne to grant a greater man then I. Brave ſprites, who now poſſeſſe the pleaſant bow'rs, And glorious Gardens of th'Elyſian Plaines, (For, (if deſerts may move th' infernall pow'rs) That happy ſhade your ſhadowes now containes) Thoſe fatall fields where I did leade you forth, Your bodies bury, but enlarge your fames, Men ſhall adore the relickes of your worth, And Trophees reare to your immortall names; I'le ſacrifice as Incenſe to your ſoules, His dying ſighes, and ſorrowing Parents teares, Who now, whilſt none his proſpering pride controules, Our conquer'd Enſignes in his triumph beares: For, it may eaſe your Ghoſts to heare his grones, Whilſt burden'd earth rebounding backe doth ſend A wailing eccho (rais'd from woods and ſtones,) With wounded words to ſhew that Armies end. Why ſpend I ſpeeches to diſturbe your reſt, As but with words (an idle ſpeaker) pleas'd?