Tasso, Torquato / Reynolds, Henry · published 1628 · first performed or written 1628 (Annals) pastoral unassigned nearest T1 Death, grief and revenge · 528 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T1: death, life, dead, die, blood, revenge, soul, father, heart, heaven.
I with an other Dart followed their footing; But setting out too late, was cast far off; And having gained the wood, I lost the sight Of them; yet kept their tract, and ran so far, Till I was got into the desertest And thickest of the wood; at length I found (And took up) Sylvia's Dart upon the ground; And not far off a white veil, which (ere while) I did myself bind up her hair withal; And whilst I looked about me ', Ispi'de seven Wolves Licking blood off the ground, that scattered lay About a few bare bones; and 'twas my hap To scape unseen, while they so earnestly Minded their prey. I full of fear turned back, and came my way. And this is all that I can say of Silvia; And here's the veil. thoust said, thoust said enough; O blood, O veil, O Silvia,' dead dead— Poor youth he dies; he's dead; ay me he's dead With grief. He breath's yet, he's but in a trance; Tarry he comes again t'himselfe. O grief, Why dost, why dost thou thus torment me? And wilt not end me? thou'rt unjust. Perhaps Thou leav'st the work to my own hand: I am, I am content it shall be my own care; Since thou wilt not, or canst not do't; Ay me, Ay me if nothing want to make this clear, And nothing want to make my miseries Now brimful; why do ' I linger? why do I stay? O Daphne Daphne, was it to this end, This bitter, bitter end thou didst reserve me? My death had then been sweet, and pleasing to me, When thou and heaven held back my Dart, and saved me; Heaven that was loath (belike) I should prevent With death, the woes it has prepared for me; But nowed has done the very worst it can, I hope both heaven, and you may suffer me To dye in peace. Stay yet, stay wretch, and learn The truth yet better. Ah the truth is such, Iue stayed too long, alas I'ue heard too much. Ay me, wretch that I am, why did I speak? Gentle Nymph, let me crave that veil of thee, The poor remainder of her; they it may Accompany me for these few sad hours Of way, and life yet left me; and increase That martyrdom, that were no martyrdom Were it not much more then enough to kill me. Shall I denieed, or shall I give it him? The cause he asks it for, bids me retain it. Cruel Nymph, to deny me ' a grace so small In my extremity; and even I see How in each trifle fortune crosseth me. I yield, I yield; long may it bide with thee: Long live ye; my way to my death must be. Aminta stay, Aminta ', a word Aminta, Hark, stay; alas how swift he flies away. He runs so fast, 'twill be in vain for us To follow him; 'twere best I onward went Upon my way; and yet perhaps 'twere better I stayed, and held my peace, than myself be Author of poor Montano's misery.
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: T1 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
I with an other Dart follow'd their footing; But ſetting out too late, was caſt farr off; And hauing gain'd the wood, I loſt the ſight Of them; yet kept their track, and ranne ſo farr, Till I was got into the deſerteſt And thickeſt of the wood; at length I found (And tooke vp) Siluias Dart vpon the ground; And not farr off a white vaile, which (ere while) I did my ſelfe binde vp her haire withall; And whilſt I look'd about me', Iſpi'de ſeu'n Wolues Licking bloud off the ground, that ſcatt'red lay About a few bare bones; and 'twas my hap To ſcape vnſeene, while they ſo earneſtly Minded their pray. I full of feare turn'd back, and came my way. And this is all that I can ſay of Siluia; And heere's the vaile. Th'haſt ſayd, th'haſt ſayd enough; O bloud, O vayle, O Siluia, 'dead dead — Poore youth he dyes; he's dead; ay me he's dead With griefe. He breath's yet, he's but in a traunce; Tarry he comes againe t'himſelfe. O griefe, Why do'ſt, why do'ſt thou thus torment me? And wilt not end me? th'art vniuſt. Perhaps Thou leau'ſt the worke to my owne hand: I am, I am content it ſhall be my owne care; Since thou wilt not, or canſt not doe't; Ay mee, Ay mee if nothing want to make this cleere, And nothing want to make my miſeries Now brimfull; why do' I linger? why do I ſtay? O Daphne Daphne, was it to this end, This bitter, bitter end thou didſt reſerue me? My death had then bin ſweet, and pleaſing to me, When thou and heau'n held back my Dart, and ſau'd me; Heau'n that was lothe (belike) I ſhould preuent With death, the woes it has prepar'd for me; But now't has done the very worſt it can, I hope both heau'n, and you may ſuffer me To dye in peace. Stay yet, ſtay wretch, and learne The trueth yet better. Ah the trueth is ſuch, 'Iue ſtay'd too long, alas I'ue heard too much. Ay mee, wretch that I am, why did I ſpeake? Gentle Nimphe, let me craue that vayle of thee, The poore remaynder of her; they it may Accompanie me for theſe fewe ſad houres Of way, and life yet left me; and increaſe That martirdom, that were no martirdom Were it not much more then enough to kill me. Shall I denie't, or ſhall I giue it him? The cauſe he askes it for, bids me retaine it. Cruell Nimphe, to deny me' a grace ſo ſmall In my extremity; and eu'n I ſee How in each trifle fortune croſſeth mee. I yeeld, I yeeld; long may it bide with thee: Long liue yee; my way to my death muſt bee. Aminta ſtay, Aminta', a word Aminta, Harke, ſtay; alas how ſwift he flyes away. He runnes ſo faſt, t'will be in vaine for vs To follow him; 'twere beſt I onward went Vpon my way; and yet perhaps 'twere better I ſtay'd, and held my peace, then my ſelfe be Author of poore Montano's miſery.