Tasso, Torquato / Reynolds, Henry · published 1628 · first performed or written 1628 (Annals) pastoral T21 Cupid, Venus and the nymphs typicality 0.78 · 465 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
Down from the third heaven, I (that am His queen, goddess, & mother) come To seek my son, (the runaway Cupid.) I lost him yesterday. As he lay playing in my lap (Whether of purpose, or by hap I cannot say,) but his gold shaft Fell with the point on my left side, And pricked me '; and when my hurt he spied, (As erst h'has served me ') he flew away, and laughed. But though sometime I angry seem, A tender care I have of him; And now (my anger laid aside) Have been to seek him far and wide; As well my heavens each part about As Mars his orb, and throughout All th'other wheels that move, and stand; The shining heaven has not a Sphere, But I have been to seek him there, Yet cannot find this little vagabond. Wherefore now amongst you (meek Mortals) I am come to seek My child, who of entim s I know, Takes delight to live with you; But I more than half despair To find him 'mongst you (Ladies fair) For though oftentimes he flies About your face, and by your eyes, And would fain enter your breast, And in your bosoms make his nest; Yet they're so bard against him with disdain, That there I fear he does but knock in vain. But amongst you Men more kind I may hope my son to find; Your milder breasts will not disdain This fugitive to entertain; Therefore to you my suit must be; Tell me ' (I pray) then, where is he? He that can but give me tiding Where the Wag has his abiding; Shall for his rewarding, sipp A pair of kisses from my lip, Soon as he will wish to take them, Full as sweet as I can make them: But he that shall the kindness do me To bring my little wandrer to me, Shall expect a greater meed Wherewith to recompense his friendly deed; And such as all the wealth I have Cannot exceed; no though I gave All Love's Kingdom; and I take To witness the black Stygian lake, That I will truly pay my vow. Tell me therefore, tell me now Where's my Son? who grants my suit? But no man answers; all are mute. Perhaps ye have not seen the Elf, Or he hath so disguiz'de himself Ye know him not; perhaps h'has left His brand, and from his shoulders reft His painted wings; and thrown them by, With th'rest of his Artillery. But I'll give y'other marks of him, whereby Ye shall discern, and find him easily. This Love (thus masked) although he be Old both in years, and subtlety; Seems but a boy in shape, and face, And (like a boy in gate, and pace)
nodes 1962–2029 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 32 of 33 in this edition
Length
465 words · 597 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T21 — Cupid, Venus and the nymphscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.783 (cosine to the topic centroid)
Other seeds
seed 43: T21 · seed 44: T24 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
DOwne from the third heau'n, I (that am His queene, goddeſſe, & mother) come To ſeeke my ſonne, (the run-away Cupid.) I loſt him yeſterday. As he lay playing in my lapp (Whether of purpoſe, or by happ I cannot ſay,) but his golde ſhaft Fell with the point on my left ſide, And prickt me'; and when my hurt he ſpide, (As erſt h'has ſeru'd me') he flew away, and laught. But though ſomtime I angry ſeem, A tender care I haue of him; And now (my anger layd aſide) Haue bin to ſeeke him farr and wide; As well my heau'ns each part about As Mars his orbe, and thoroughout All th'other wheeles that mooue, and ſtand; The ſhining heau'n has not a Sphere, But I haue bin to ſeeke him there, Yet cannot finde this little vagabond. Wherefore now amongſt you (meeke Mortalls) I am come to ſeeke My childe, who of entim s I knowe, Takes delight to liue with you; But I more then halfe diſpaire To finde him 'mongſt you (Ladyes faire) For though oftentimes he flyes About your face, and by your eyes, And would faine enter your breſt, And in your boſomes make his neſt; Yet they'r ſo bard againſt him with diſdaine, That there I feare he does but knock in vain. But amongſt you Men more kinde I may hope my ſonne to finde; Your milder breſts will not diſdaine This fugitiue to entertaine; Therefore to you my ſute muſt be; Tell mee' (I pray') then, where is he? He that can but giue me tyding Where the Wag has his abiding; Shall for his rewarding, ſipp A paire of kiſſes from my lipp, Soone as he will wiſh to take them, Full as ſweet as I can make them: But he that ſhall the kindneſſe do mee To bring my little wandrer to mee, Shall expect a greater meede Wherwith to recompence his friendly deed; And ſuch as all the wealth I haue Cannot exceede; no though I gaue All Loues Kingdome; and I take To witneſſe the blacke Stigian lake, That I will truely pay my vowe. Tell mee therefore, tell mee now Where's my Sonne? who graunts my ſuite? But no man anſweres; all are mute. Perhaps yee haue not ſeene the Elfe, Or he hath ſo diſguiz'de himſelfe Yee know him not; perhaps h'has left His brand, and from his ſhoulders reft His painted wings; and throwne them by, With th'reſt of his Artillerie. But I'le giue y'other markes of him, wherby Yee ſhall diſerne, and finde him eaſily. This Loue (thus masked) although he be Olde both in yeares, and ſubtiltie; Seemes but a boye in ſhape, and face, And (like a boye in gate, and pace)