Agamemnon (Seneca's Eighth Tragedy) · chunk 17 of 28
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1566 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.84 · 494 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T7: hector, troy, achilles, greeks, aeneas, priam, ulysses, troilus, trojan, trojans.
O whether may I now lament, and weep with wailing sad, Or shall I else in that my spous returned is be glad? I do rejoice, and yet I am compelled to bewail My countries great calamity that doth the same assail. O father great whose majesty doth thundering sceptres shake, The lowering Gods unto the Greeks now favourable make, With garlands green let every head rejoicing now be crowned. To to thee the pipe in sacrifice melodiously doth sound, And on thine altar lieth slain an Heyferdlyly white, Before the same do present stand with hanging locks undyght, A careful Trojan company in heavy woeful plight, On whom from heigh the Laurel tree with spreading branch doth shine, Whose virtue hath inspired them with Phoebus' grace divine, ALas the cruel sting of love how sweetly doth it taste, A misery to mortal man annexed while life doth last? The path of mischief for to fly, now sith there is a gap, And wretched souls be frankly called from every woeful hap By death, a pleasant port, for aye in rest themselves to shroud, Where dreadful tumults never dwell nor storms of Fortune proud: Nor yet the burning fiery flakes of Ioue the same doth doubt, when wrongfully with twacking thumps he raps his thunder out: Hear lady peace th'inhabitors doth never put in flight, Nor yet the victor's threatnyng wrath approaching nyga to fight, No whirling western wind doth ●rge the ramping seas to prance, No dusty cloud that raised is by savage Demi-lance, On horseback riding rank by rank, no fierce and cruel ho●t, No people slaughtered, with their towns clean topsy turney tossed: While that the foe with flaming fire doth spoil and waste the wall, Untamed and unbridled Mars destroys and batters all: That man alone who forceth not the fickle fates a straw, The visage grim of Acheron whose eyes yet never saw, Who never viewed with heavy cheare the ugsome Limbo lake, And putting life in hazard dare to death himself betake. That parson is a princes pear, and like the gods in might, Who knoweth not what death doth mean is in a piteous plight The ruthful ruin of our native country we beheld: That woeful night, in which the roofes of houses overqueld, In Dardans City blazing bright with flashing fiery flames. when as the Greeks with burning brands enkindle did the frames, That Troy whom war & deeds of arms might not subdue and take, As on's did mighty Hercules, whose quiver caused it quake, Which neither he that Peleus' son, and son to Thetis was, Nor whom Achilles loved to well, could ever bring to pass, When glittering bright in filled he ware false armour on his back, And counterfeiting fierce Achilles the Trojans drove to wrack. Nor when Achilles he himself his mind from sorrow wrest, And Trojan women to the walls did scudding leap in haste. In misery she lost her proud
seed 43: T12 · seed 44: T11 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
¶O whether may I now lamet, and wepe with waylyng sad, Or shall I els in that my spous returned is be glad? I do reioyce, and yet I am compelled to bewayle My countreys great calamytie that doth the same assayle. O father great whose maiestye doth thundryng sepers shake, The lowryng Gods vnto the Grkes now fauourable make, With garlands greene let euerye head reioysyng now be cround. To to thee the pype in sacryfice mlodiously doth sound, And on thyne alter lyeth slayne an Heyferdlyly whyte, Before the same do present stand with hangyng lockes vndyght, A carfull Troyan companye in heuy wofull plyght, On whom frō heygh the Lawrell tree with spredding branche doth shyne, Whose vertue hath inspired them with Phaebus grace diuine, ALas the cruell stynge of loue how swetely doth it taste, A myserye to mortall man annext whyle lyfe doth last? The path of myscheife for to flye, now syth there is a gap, And wretched soules be franckly calde from euery wofull hap By death, a pleasant port, for aye in rest them selues to shroude, Where dredfull tumultes neuer dwell nor stormes of Fortune proude: Nor yet the burning fyry flakes of Ioue the same doth doubt, whē wrongfully with twacking thūpes he rappes hys thunder out: Hear lady peace thinhabitours doth neuer put in flyght, Nor yet the victors threatnyg wrath approchyng nyg to fyght, No whyrling western wynd doth rge the rampyng seas to praunce, No dustye cloud that raysed is by sauage Dimilaunce, On horseback riding rancke by ranck, no ferse and cruell hot, No people slaughtred, wt their townes clean topsie turey tost: Whyle that the foe with flamyng fyre doth spoyle and wast the wall, Untamed and vnbridled Mars destroys and batters all: That man alone who forceth not the ficle fates a strawe, The vysage grym of Acheront whose eyes yet neuer sawe, Who neuer vewd with heauy chear the vgsome Limbo lake, And puttynge lyfe in hasarde dare to death hym selfe betake. That parson is a prynces peare, and lyke the gods in myght, Who knoweth not what death dothe mean is in a pitious plight The ruthfull ruin of our natyue countrey we beheld: That woful nyght, in which the roofe of howses ouerqueld, In Dardans Cytie blasing bryght with flasshyng fiery flames. when as the Grekes wt burning brands enkindle did the frames, That Troy whō war & dedes of armes myght not subdue and take, As ons did mighty Hercules, whose quyuer casde it quake, Which neither he that Peleus sonne, and sonne to Thetis was, Nor whom Achilles loued to wel, could euer brynge to passe, When glyteryng bright in fild he ware false armour on hys back, And counterfayting fearse Achill the Troyans draue to wrack. Nor when Achilles he hym selfe hys mynd from sorow wrast, And Troyan women to the walles dyd scuddyng leape in hast. In myserie she lost her proud