Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Walk not this days where harms may be received, Since by no great necessity being forced, For though his judgement may be far deceived, In things that touch thy life, suspect the worst. Whilst I reformed the Calendar by fits, That long disordered th'order of the year; I waded through the depths of all their wits, That of the stars the mysteries make clear. Those pregnant sprites that walk betwixt the poles, And lodge at all the zodiacs several signs, Do read strange wonders wrapped in th'azure scrolls, Of which our deeds are words, our lives are lines. By speculation of superior powers, Some Nature's secrets curious are to know, As how celestial bodies rule over ours, And what their influence effects below. Yea they sometime may strange conjectures make, Of those whose parts they by their birth do prove, Since naturally all inclination take, From Planets then predominant above. And yet no certainty can so be had, Some virtuously against their stars have strived, As Socrates that grew, (though borne but bad,) The most accomplished man that ever lived. But of the hour ordained to close our lights, No earth-clogged soul can to the knowledge come; For O the destinies far from our sights, In clouds of darkness have involved our doom. And some but only guess at great men's falls, By bearded comets, and prodigious stars, Whose sight-distracting shapes the world appals, As still denouncing terror, death, or wars. The time uncertain is of certain death, And that fantastic man far past his bounds, He is too bold that with ambiguous breath, Not speaks of things to come, whose deeps none sounds But this all day did my repose extort, And from my breast of cares a tribute claimed, Now vilipend not that which I'll report, Though but a dream, and by a woman dreamt. I thought (alas) the thought yet wounds my breast, Then whilst we both as those whom Morpheus weds, Lay softly buried with a pleasant rest, I in thy bosom, thou within the beds. Then from my soul strange terrors did withdraw Th'expected peace by apprehended harms; For I imagined, no, no doubt I saw, And did embrace thee bloody in mine arms. Thus whilst my soul by sorrows was surcharge, Of which huge weight it yet some burden bears; I big with grief two elements enlarged, Th'air with my sighs, the water with my tears. That which I heard, with thy report accords, Whilst thou all seemed dissolved in grief at once, A heavy murmuring made with mangled words, Was interrupted oft by tragic groans. The memory, but not the judgement makes Th'impression thus of passions in the brain, For what the soul most suffers when it wakes, With it asleep it doth turmoiled remain. From superstitious fears this care proceeds, Which still would watch o'er that which thou dost love, And in thy mind melancholy thus breeds, Which doth those strange imaginations move.
seed 43: T49 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Walke not this days where harmes may be receiu'd, Since by no great neceſſity being forede, For though his iudgement may be farre deceiu'd, In things that touch thy life, ſuſpect the worſt. Whilſt I reform'd the Calender by fits, That long diſordred th'order of the yeare; I waded through the depths of all their wits, That of the ſtarres the myſteries make cleare. Thoſe pregnant ſprites that walke betwixt the poles, And lodge at all the zodiackes ſeuerall ſignes, Do reade ſtrange wonders wrapt in th'azure ſcroules, Of which our deedes are wordes, our liues are lines. By ſpeculation of ſuperior powres, Some Natures ſecrets curious are to know, As how celeſtiall bodies rule ouer ours, And what their influence effects below. Yea they ſometime may ſtrange coniectures make, Of thoſe whoſe parts they by their birth doe proue, Since naturally all inclination take, From Planets then predominant aboue. And yet no certaintie can ſo be had, Some vertuouſly againſt their ſtarres haue ſtriu'd, As Socrates that grew, (though borne but bad,) The moſt accompliſht man that euer liu'd. But of the houre ordain'd to cloſe our lights, No earth-clogd ſoule can to the knowledge come; For O the deſtinies farre from our ſights, In clowds of darknes haue inuolu'd our doome. And ſome but onely gueſſe at great mens falles, By bearded comets, and prodigious ſtarres, Whoſe ſight-diſtracting ſhapes the world appalles, As ſtill denouncing terrour, death, or warres. The time vncertaine is of certaine death, And that fantaſtike man farre paſt his bounds, He is too bold that with ambiguous breath, Not ſpeaks of things to come, whoſe deeps none ſounds But this all day did my repoſe extort, And from my breaſt of cares a tribute clam'd, Now vilipend not that which Ile report, Though but a dreame, and by a woman dreamd. I thought (alas) the thought yet wounds my breaſt, Then whilſt we both as thoſe whom Morpheus weds, Lay ſoftly buried with a pleaſant reſt, I in thy boſome, thou within the beds. Then from my ſoule ſtrange terrours did withdrawe Th'exſpected peace by apprehended harmes; For I imagin'd, no, no doubt I ſaw, And did imbrace thee bloodie in mine armes. Thus whilſt my ſoule by ſorrowes was ſurchargde, Of which huge weight it yet ſome burden beares; I big with griefe two elements enlargde, Th'aire with my ſighes, the water with my teares. That which I heard, with thy report accords, Whilſt thou all ſeemd diſſolu'd in griefe at once, A heauy murmuring made with mangled words, Was interrupted oft by tragicke grones. The memory, but not the iudgement makes Th'impreſſion thus of paſſions in the braine, For what the ſoule moſt ſuffers when it wakes, With it aſleepe it doth turmoyld remaine. From ſuperſtitious feares this care proceedes, Which ſtil would watch o're that which thou doſt loue, And in thy minde melancholy thus breedes, Which doth thoſe ſtrange imaginations moue.