Agamemnon (Seneca's Eighth Tragedy) · chunk 17 of 28
Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy T7 The Trojan war: conflict and its afterma typicality 0.89 · 495 words · other edition — not in the analysis
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 Spouse 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 souring Gods unto the Greeks now favourable make, With garlands green let every head rejoicing now be crowned. To thee the pipe in sacrifice melodiously doth sound, And on thine altar lieth slain an heifered lily white, Before the same do present stand with hanging locks undight, A careful Trojan company in heavy woeful plight, On whom from high 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 is 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 thwacking thumps be raps his thunder out: Here Lady Peace th'inhabitors doth never put in flight, Nor yet the victors threatening wrath approaching right to fight, No whirling westernwind doth urge 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 host, No people slaughtered, with their towns clean topsy-turvy 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 cheer the ugsome Limbo lake, And putting life in hazard, dare to death himself betake. That person 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 roofs of houses overquelled, In Dardans City blazing bright with flashing fiery flames. whenas the Greeks with burning brands enkindle did the frames, That: Troy whom war & deeds of arms might not subdue and take. As once did mighty Hercules, whose Ouyuer 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 field he wore false armour on his back, And counterfeiting fierce Achill 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 estate, and fast renown,
Other edition — placed after the fit, excluded from the main statistics
Position
nodes 768–819 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 17 of 28 in this edition
Length
495 words · 667 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T7 — The Trojan war: conflict and its aftermathcross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.886 (cosine to the topic centroid) · placed after the fit (approximate_predict), not counted in the topic statistics
Other seeds
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 lament, and weepe with wayling ſad? Or ſhall I els in that my Spouſe returned is bee glad? I doe reioyce, and yet I am compelled to bewayle My countreyes great calamity that doth the ſame aſſayle. O Father great whoſe maieſty doth thundring Scepters ſhake, The ſowring Gods vnto the Greekes now fauourable make, With garlands greene let euery head reioyſing now be crounde. To thee the pype in ſacryfice melodiouſly doth ſounde, And on thyne aulter lyeth ſlayne an Heyferd lilly whight, Before the ſame doe preſent ſtand with hanging lockes vndight, A carefull Troyan company in heauy wofull plight, On whom frō high the Lawrell tree with ſpredding braunch doth ſhyne, Whoſe vertue hath inſpyred them with Phoebus grace diuine, ALas the cruell ſting of loue how ſweetely doth it taſte, A miſery is mortall man annext whyle lyfe doth laſt? The pathe of miſchiefe for to flye, now ſith there is a gap, And wretched ſoules be franckly calde From euery wofull hap, By death, a pleaſaunt port, for aye in reſt them ſelues to ſhroude, Where dreadfull tumultes neuer dwell nor ſtormes of Fortune proude: Nor yet the burning firy flakes of Ioue the ſame doth doubt, When wrongfully with thwacking thumpes be raps his thunder out: Heere Lady Peace th'inhabitours doth neuer put in flight, Nor yet the victors threatning wrath approching right to fight, No whyrling weſternwynde doth vrge the ramping ſeas to praunce, No duſty cloude that rayſed is by ſauage Dimilaunce, On horſeback riding rancke, by rancke no fearce and cruell hoſt, No people ſlaughtred, with their townes cleane ropſie turuey toſt: Whyle that the foe with flaming fyre doth ſpoyle and waſte the wall, Vntamed and vnbridled Mars deſtroyes and batters all: That man alone who forceth not the fickle fates a ſtrawe, The vyſage grim of Acheront whoſe eyes yet neuer ſawe, Who neuer vewd with heauy cheare the vgſome Limbo lake, And putting lyfe in haſarde, dare to death him ſelfe betake. That perſon is a Prynces peare, and lyke the Gods in myght, Who knoweth not what death doth meane is in a pitious plight The ruthfull ruin of our natyue countrey wee behelde: That wofull nyght, in which the roofes of houſes ouerquelde, In Dardans City blaſing bryght with flaſſhing fiery flames. When as the Greekes with burning brandes enkindle did the frames, That: Troy whom war & beedes of armes might not ſubdue and take. As once did mighty Hercules, whoſe Ouyuer cauſde it quake, Which neither he that ſonne, and ſonne to Thetis was, Nor whom Achilles loued to wel, could euer brynge to paſſe, When glytesing bright in field he ware ale armour on his back, And counterfayting fearſe Achill the Troyans draue to wrack. Nor when Achilles he hym ſelfe his minde from ſorow wraſt, And Troyan women to the walles did ſcuddyng leape in haſt. In myſerte ſhe loſt her proud eſtate, and faſt renoume,