Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
THough I a goddess glance through th'azure round, Whilst the eye-feathered birds my coach do move: And am with radiant stars heavens Empress crowned, The sister, and the wife of thundering Ioue. And though I banquet in th'etherial bowers, Where ambrosia and Nectar serves for meat: And at the meeting of th'immortal powers, Am still advanced unto the highest seat: Yet by those glorious shows of boundless bliss, My martred mind can no way be relieved, Since immortality affords but this, That I may ever live being ever grieved. In vain, vain mortals seek for help at me, With Sacred odours on my Altars thrown: What expectation can they have to see, One venge their wrongs, that cannot venge her own? Might Pallas once drown thousands in the seas. And metamorphose Diomedes mates? And must mine enemies always live in ease, As me to spite, appointed by the fates? Of all the dying race that lives below, With such indignities none could comport, As wound my breast, whom gods and men do know To be abused by Ioue in many a sort. Though known to me, from others if concealed, His faults might breed me grief, but yet not shame: Where lo, now both through heaven & earth revealed, Each slanderous Theater doth his scorn proclaim. If heavenly souls divinely lived aloft, Th'inferior world would imitate them then: But humanized by haunting mortals oft, Where men should grow like gods, gods grow like men. My painted Iris in her beauty's pride, Smiles not on Phoebus with so many hues: As Ioue in divers shapes himself can hide, When he poor maids by Cupid spurred pursues. He Danae in a golden shower deceived, And did a Swan in Leda's bosom light, Then being a Bull Agenor's daughter reaved, And Iö made a Cow to mock my sight. But would to god that with such wanton dames, He still to sport would as with me remain, Not able then t'embrace celestial flames, All like the Drunkard's mother might be slain. Then such a troop as Rhea's bosom stores, Would not hold him and me at endless jars: The heavens are pestered with my husband's whores, Whose lights impure, do taint the purest stars. All injuries are heavy to digest, Yet th'actors greatness doth some grief remove: Of whom to suffer wrong it shames one least; If I were wronged, I would be wronged by Ioue. But (ah) this long hath tyrannized my breast, A man, a boy, a shepherd, yea and worse, The Phrygian firebrand, the adulterous guest, That first wrought wrong by fraud and then by force. He, he, was he whose verdict moved me most, Whilst it on Ida wronged my beauty's right; No wonder too though one all judgement lost, That had three naked goddesses in sight.
seed 43: T28 · seed 44: T22 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
THough I a goddeſſe glance through th'azure round, Whilſt the eie-feather'd birds my coach do moue: And am with radiant ſtarres heauens Empreſſe crown'd, The ſiſter, and the wife of thundring Ioue. And though I banquet in th'Aetheriall bowres, Where Ambroſie and Nectar ſerues for meate: And at the meeting of th'immortall powres, Am ſtill aduanc'd vnto the higheſt ſeate: Yet by thoſe glorious ſhewes of boundleſſe bliſſe, My martred minde can no way be relieu'd, Since immortalitie affords but this, That I may euer liue being euer grieu'd. In vaine, vaine mortals ſeeke for helpe at me, With Sacred odours on my Altars throwne: What expectation can they haue to ſee, One venge their wrongs, that cannot venge her owne? Might Pallas once drowne thouſands in the ſeas. And metamorphoſe Diomedes mates? And muſt mine enemies alwayes liue in eaſe, As me to ſpight, appointed by the fates? Of all the dying race that liues below, With ſuch indignities none could comport, As wound my breaſt, whom gods and men do know To be abuſde by Ioue in many a ſort. Though knowne to me, from others if concealde, His faults might breed me griefe, but yet not ſhame: Where lo, now both through heauen & earth reuealde, Each ſtanderous Theater doth his ſcorne proclame. If heauenly ſoules diuinely liu'd aloft, Th'inferior world would imitate them then: But humaniz'd by hanting mortals oft, Where men ſhould grow like gods, gods grow like men. My painted Iris in her beauties pride, Smiles not on Phoebus with ſo many hues: As Ioue in diuers ſhapes himſelfe can hide, When he poore maides by Cupid ſpurr'd purſues. He Danae in a golden ſhowre deceiude, And did a Swanne in Ledaes boſome light, Then being a Bull Agenors daughter reau'd, And Iö made a Cow to mocke my ſight. But would to god that with ſuch wanton dames, He ſtill to ſport would as with me remaine, Not able then t'imbrace celeſtiall flames, All like the drunkards mother might be ſlaine. Then ſuch a troupe as Rhea boſome ſtores, Would not hold him and me at endleſſe iarres: The heauens are peſtred with my husbands whores, Whoſe lights impure, do taint the pureſt ſtarres. All iniuries are heauie to digeſt, Yet th'actors greatneſſe doth ſome griefe remoue: Of whom to ſuffer wrong it ſhames one leaſt; If I were wrongde, I would be wrongde by Ioue. But (ah) this long hath tirraniz'd my breaſt, A man, a boy, a ſhepheard, yea and worſe, The Phrygian fire-brand, the adultrous gueſt, That firſt wrought wrong by fraud and then by force. He, he, was he whoſe verdict mou'd me moſt, Whilſt it on Ida wrong'd my beauties right; No wonder too though one all iudgement loſt, That had three naked goddeſſes in ſight.