Seneca, Lucius Annaeus / Studley, John · published 1581 · first performed or written 1566 (Annals) tragedy unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 513 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
Lavish of life and dreadless was the wight, Attempting first in slender tottering Barge With sliving o'er the sliced wave to smite, And durst commit the dainty tender charge Of hazard life to inconstant course of wind, That turns with change of chances evermore, To view the land forsook aloof behind, And shoving forth the Ship fro safer shore, And glancing through the foamy Channel deep On sunder cut with slender Stem the wave, Twixt hope of life, and dread of death to sweep, In narrow gut himself to spill or save: Experience yet of Planets no man had, They needed not the wandering course to know Of Stars, (wherewith the painted sky is clad,) Not Pleiads, (which return of sailing show) Nor Hyads (that with showers the Seas do beat) No nor the stern Amalthea's horned head (Who gave the lips of sucking Ioue the Teat) Were wont to put the blundering ships in dread. They feared not the northern icy wain, Which lazy old bootes wields behind, And twines about, no name yet could they fain For Boreas rough, nor smother western wind. Yet Typhys bold on open seas durst show His hoisted sails, and for the winds decree New laws: as now full gale aloof to blow, Now tackle turride to take side wind alee, Now up to furl the crossayle on the mast, There safe to hang, the topsail now to spread, Now missel sail, and drabler out to cast, When dangling hangs his shottering tackle red While steersman stur, and busy never blind, With pith to pull all sails eke to display, With tooth and nail all force of wind to win, To shear the seas, and quick to scud away. The golden world our fathers have possessed, Where banished fraud durst never come in place, All were content to live at home in rest, With hoary head, grey beard, and furrowed face. Which tract of time within his country brought. rich having little, for more they did not toil, No vent for wares, nor traffic far they sought, No wealth that sprang beyond their native soil, The Thessail ship together now hath set, The Thessail ship together now hath set, The World that well with Seas dissevered lay, It bids the floods with Oars to be bet, And streams unknown with shipwreck us to fray That wicked Keel was lost by ruthful wrack Ytossed through such perils passing great, Where Cyane's Rocks 'gan roar as thunder crack, Whose bouncing boult the shaken soil doth beat. The sousing Surges dashed every star, The pestered seas the clouds aloft berayed, This scuffling did bold TYPHIS mind deter, His helm did slip from trembling hand dismayed. The ORPHEUS with his drooping Harp was mum Dead in her dumps the flaunting ARGOS glee, All hushed in rest with silence waxed dumb, What hardy heart astound here would not be? To see at once each yawning mouth to gape, Of Sulla's gulf compact in wallowing paunch, Of dogs, who doth not loathe her mongrel shape, Her visage, breast, and hideous ugly haunch:
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
LAuiſh of life and dreadleſſe was the wyght, Attempting fyrſt in ſlender tottring Barge Wyth ſliuing Ore theſlyced waue to ſmyte, And durſt commit the dainty tender charge Of hazered life to inconſtant courſe of wynde, That turnes with chaunge of chaunces euermore, To vew the land forſooke aloofe behynde, And ſhoouing forthe the Ship fro ſafer ſhore, And glauncing through the fomy Channell deepe On ſunder cut with ſlender Stemme the waue, Twixt hope of lyfe, and dread of death to ſweepe, In narrow gut him ſelfe to ſpill or ſaue: Experience yet of Planets no man had, They needed not the wandring courſe to knowe Of Starres, (wherewith the paynted ſky is clad,) Not Pleiads, (which returne of ſayling ſhow) Nor Hyads (that with ſhowrs the Seas doe beate) No nor the ſterne Amaltheas horned head (Who gaue the lyppes of ſucking Ioue the Teate) Were wont to put the blundering ſhips in dread. They feared not the northerne Iſy wayne, Whych lazy olde bootes wieldes behinde, And twynes about, no name yet could they fayne For Boreas rough, nor ſmother weſtern wynde. Yet Typhys bould on open ſeas durſt ſhow His hoyſted ſayles, and for the wyndes decree New lawes: as now full gale aloofe to blow, Now tackle turride to take ſyde wynde alee, Now vp to farle the croſſayle on the maſt, There ſafe to hang, the topſayle now to ſpred, Now miſſel ſayle, and drabler out to caſt, VVhen dagling hanges his ſhottring tackle red VVhyle ſtearſman ſtur, and buſye neuer blin, VVith pyth to pull all ſayles eke to diſplay, VVith tooth and nayle all foree of winde to wyn, To ſheare the ſeas, and quick to ſcud awaye. The golden worlde our fathers haue poſſeſt, VVhere banyſht fraude durſt neuer come in place, All were content to liue at home in reſt, VVith horye head, gray beard, and ſurrowed face. VVhych tract of time within his countrey brought. Riche hauing lytle, for more they did not toyle, No vente for wares, nor Traficque far they ſought, No wealth that ſprange beyond theyr natiue ſoyle, The Theſſail ſhyp together now hath ſet, The Theſſail ſhip together now hath ſet, The Worlde that well with Seas diſſeuered lay, It biddes the fluds with Oares to be bet, And ſtreames vnknowen with ſhipwrack vs to fray That wicked Keele was loſt by ruthfull wrack Ytoſſed through ſuch perylles paſſing great, Where Cyane Rocks gan rore as thunder crack, Whoſe bouncing boult the ſhaken ſoyle doth beat. The ſowſing Surges daſſhed euery ſtarre, The peſterd ſeas the cloudes aloft berayde, This ſcuffling did bould TYPHIS minde detarre, Hys helme did ſlip from trembling hande diſmayde. The ORPHEVS with his drowping Harp was mum Dead in her dumpes the flaunting ARGOS glee, All huſht in reſt with ſilence wexed dum, What hardy heart aſtound heere would not bee? To ſee at once eche yawning mouth to gape, Of Syllas gulph compact in wallowing paunch, Of dogges, who doth not loth her mongrell ſhape, Her viſage, breaſt, and hyddeous vgly haunch: