Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
back from th'umbrageous bounds still robbed of rest Must I return, where Phoebus gilds the fields, A ghost not worthy to be Pluto's guest, Since one to whom the world no burial yields. O what a great disgrace is this to me, Whose trophies th'earth in every corner keeps, That I (contemned) cannot transported be, A passenger through the sulphurean deeps. Dare churlish Charon, though not used to bow, The raging torrent of my wrath gainstand? Must I succumb amidst hell's dungeons now, Though over the world accustomed to command? But it may be that this hath wrought me harm. What bloodless ghosts stray on the Stygian bank, Whose falls (made famous by my fatal arm) Whose falls (made famous by my fatal arm) Gave terror oft to many a martial rank? Yet for a prey exposed to ravenous beasts, Could never have the honour of a tomb. But (though for such rude guests too precious feasts) Were basely buried in their brutish womb. Thus as it seems the horror of such deeds With like indignity attends my sprite, What stormy breast this thirst of vengeance breeds, T'accuse for that which valour did acquit. Ah might Alcmena's son (as worthy of Ioue) Once force th'infernal forts of endless night, T'encounter Dis in the Tartarian grove, And draw forth th'ugly Cerberus to light. Then leading Theseus through the caverns dark, That would have forced th'inferior regions Queen, By violence used he th'Avernal bark, As Conqueror of the pallid Empire seen. And may not I down in the centre sit? Their renting th'earth (as thence when vapours rise) T'enlarge th'imprisoned souls, the pitchy pit, That once the light may lighten lightlesse eyes. What though I from th'etherial circles swerve, Whom in this state it may be some mistake, May not the voice of Alexander serve To make th'earth tremble, and the depths to shake? Or shall I go above with new alarms, To spoil the princes of the peopled round? And turn back, backed with squadrons all in arms, T'affright the ghosts that are beneath the ground. But (ah) what comfort can I find above, Where those whom I advanced, lo now in th'end The titles of my offspring strive t'improve? And to my chair by violence ascend. Ingratitude torments my troubled sprite: Would God therefore, that with a body stored, I might return t'enjoy the days clear light. My back with arms, my hand charged with a sword, As when I entered in a populous town. To war alone with thousands in my wrath, Whilst (prizing honour dearer than my Crown) Each of my blows gave wounds, each wound gave death. Then thundering vengeance on rebellious bands I would make them redeem my grace with groans, Where now my Ghost hedged in with horror stands: Less graced than those whom I commanded once.
seed 43: T32 · seed 44: T26 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
BAcke from th'umbragious bounds ſtill rob'd of reſt Muſt I returne, where Phoebus gildes the fields, A ghoſt not worthy to be Plutoes gueſt, Since one to whom the world no buriall yields. O what a great diſgrace is this to me, Whoſe trophees th'earth in euery corner keepes, That I (contemn'd) cannot tranſported be, A paſſenger through the ſulphurean deepes. Dare churliſh Charon, though not vſde to bow, The raging torrent of my wrath gain eſtand? Muſt I ſuccumb amidſt hells dungeons now, Though ouer the world accuſtom'd to command? But it may be that this hath wrought me harme. What bloodleſſe ghoſts ſtray on the Stygian bancke, Whoſe falles (made famous by my fatall arme) Whoſe falles (made famous by my fatall arme) Gaue terrour oft to many a martiall rancke? Yet for a prey expoſde to rauenous beaſts, Could neuer haue the honour of a tombe. But (though for ſuch rude gueſts too pretious feaſts) Were baſely buried in their brutiſh wombe. Thus as it ſeemes the horiour of ſuch deedes With like indignitie attends my ſprite, What ſtormie breſt this thirſt of vengeance breedes, T'accuſe for that which valour did acquite. Ah might Alcmenaes ſonne (as worthy of Ioue) Once force th'infernall fortes of endleſſe night, T'encounter Dis in the Tartarian groue, And draw foorth th'ougly Cerberus to light. Then leading Theſeus through the cauerns darke, That would haue forc'd th'inferiour regions Queene, By violence vſde he th'auernall barke, As Conquerour of the pallide Empire ſeene. And may not I downe in the center ſit? Their renting th'earth (as thence when vapours riſe) T'inlarge th'impriſon'd ſoules, the pitchy pit, That once the light may lighten lightleſſe eies. What though I from th'aetheriall circles ſwerue, Whom in this ſtate it may be ſome miſtake, May not the voyce of Alexander ſerue To make th'earth tremble, and the depths to ſhake? Or ſhal I goe aboue with new alarmes, To ſpoyle the princes of the peopled round? And turne backe, back'd with ſquadrons all in armes, T'affright the ghoſts that are beneath the ground. But (ah) what comfort can I find aboue, Where thoſe whom I aduanc'd, loe now in th'end The titles of my of-ſpring ſtriue t'improue? And to my chaire by violence aſcend. Ingratitude torments my troubled ſprite: Would God therefore, that with a bodie ſtor'd, I might returne t'enioy the dayes cleere light. My backe with armes, my hand charg'd with a ſword, As when I entred in a populous towne. To warre alone with thouſands in my wrath, Whilſt (prizing honour deerer than my Crowne) Ech of my blows gaue wounds, ech wound gaue death. Then thundring vengeance on rebellious bands I would make them redeeme my grace with grones, Where now my Ghoſt hedgd in with horrour ſtands: Leſſe gracd then thoſe whom I commanded once.