Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T12: iupiter, saturn, iuno, venus, gods, mars, earth, titan, love, fair.
Stop your Hammers: what ails Ioue? We are making arrows for my slip-string son, Here,— reach him those two dozen; I must now A golden handle make for my wife's fann: Work my sine Smugges. First hear; you shall not play, The Fates would scold should you keep Holiday. What then? Command thy Brawny fisted slaves to sweat At th' Anuile, and to dust their Hammers beat, To stuff with Thunderbolts Ioues Armoryes, For Vices (mountainlike) in black heaps rise, My sinews crack to fallen them:— Idiot pride Stalks upon stilts,— Ambition, by her side, Climbing to catch Stars, breaks her neck it'h fall, The Gallant Roars,— Roarers drink oaths and gall, The Beggar curses,— Avarice eats gold Yet ne'er is filled,— Learning's awrangling scold, War has a Fatal hand,— Peace, whorish Eyes, Shall not Iove, beat down such Impieties? Is't not high time, Is't not true justice then (Vulcan) for thee, and thy tough Hammer-men To heat thy Anuile,— and blow fires to flames To burnethese Broods, who kill even with their Names? Yes Ioue, 'tis more than Time. And what helps this, but Iron! O then, how high Shall this Great Troy, Text up the Memory Of you her Noble Praetor, and tall Those (Your worthy Brotherhood) through whose Care goes That rare, rich prize of Iron, to the whole Land, Iron! far more worth than Tagus' golden Sand. Iron! best of Metals! Pride of Minerals! Hart of the Earth! Hand of the World, which falls Heavy when it strikes home:— By Irons strong Charms Riots lie bound:— War stops her rough Alarms Iron; Earthquakes strikes in Foes:— Knits friends in love, Iron's that maine Hinge, on which the World doth move: No Kingdom's Globe can turn, Even, Smooth and Round, But that his Axletree in Iron is found: For, Armies wanting Iron, are puffs of wind, And, but for Iron, who thrones of peace would mind? Were there no gold nor silver in the land: Yet Navigation (which on Jron does stand) Can fetch it in— Gold's Darling to the Sun, But Iron, his hardy Boy, by whom is done More than the T'other dare: The Merchant's Gates By Iron, bar out thievish assassinates: Iron is the Shopkeepers both Lock and Kay, What are your Cours of Guard, when Iron's away? How would the Cornepricke up her golden Ears: But that Iron Plough shares, all the labour bears In Earth's strange Midwiffry? Brave Jron! what praise Deserves it? More 'tis beat, more it obeys; The more it suffers: More it smooths offence: In Drudgery, it shines with Patience. This Fellowship, was then with judging Eyes United to the twelve great Companies: It being far more Worthy, than to Fill A File inferior;— You's the sun's gilded Hill: On toot: Ioue guards you on: Cyclopes a Ring Make with your Hammers, to whose Music Sing.
seed 43: T53 · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Stop your Hammers: what ayles Ioue? We are making arrowes for my ſlip-string ſonne, Here, —reach him thoſe two dozen; I muſt now A golden handle make for my wifes fann: Worke my ſine Smugges. Firſt heare; you ſhall not play, The Fates would ſcold ſhould you keepe Holiday. What then? Command thy Brawny fiſted ſlaues to ſweate At th' Anuile, and to duſt their Hammers beate, To ſtuffe with Thunderbolts Ioues Armoryes, For Vices (mountaine-like) in black heapes rize, My ſinewes crack to fell them:— Ideot pride Stalkes vpon ſtilts, — Ambition, by her ſide, Climbing to catch Starres, breakes her necke it'h fall, The Gallant Roares, — Roarers drinke oathes and gall, The Beggar curſes, — Auarice eates gold Yet ne're is fild, — Learning's awrangling ſcold, Warre has a Fatall hand, — Peace, whoriſh Eyes, Shall not Iove, beate downe ſuch Impieties? Ist not high time, Iſt not true Iustice then (Vulcan) for thee, and thy tough Hammer-men To heate thy Anuile,—and blow fires to flames To burnetheſe Broodes, who kill euen with their Names? Yes Ioue, tis more then Time. And what helpes this, but Iron! O then, how high Shall this Great Troy, Text vp the Memory Of you her Noble Praetor, and tall Thoſe (Your worthy Brotherhood) through whoſe Care goes That rare, rich prize of Iron, to the whole Land, Iron! farre more worth then Tagus golden Sand. Iron! beſt of Mettals! Pride of Minerals! Hart of the Earth! Hand of the World, which fals Heauy when it ſtrikes home: — By Irons ſtrong Charmes Ryots lye bound: —Warre ſtops her rough Allarmes Iron; Earthquakes strikes in Foes: — Knits friends in loue, Iron's that maine Hinge, on which the World doth moue: No Kingdomes Globe can turne, Euen, Smooth and Round, But that his Axletree in Iron is found: For, Armies wanting Iron, are puffes of wind, And, but for Iron, who thrones of peace would mind? Were there no gold nor ſiluer in the land: Yet Nauigation (which on Jron does ſtand) Could fetch it in —Gold's Darling to the Sunne, But Iron, his hardy Boy, by whom is done More than the Tother dare: The Merchants Gates By Iron, barre out theeuiſh aſſaſsinates: Iron is the Shop-keepers both Locke and Kay, What are your Cours of Guard, when Iron's away? How would the Cornepricke vp her golden Eares: But that Iron Plough ſhares, all the labour beares In Earth's ſtrange Midwiffry? Braue Jron! what praiſe Deſerues it? More tis beate, more it obayes; The more it ſuffers: More it ſmoothes offence: In Drudgery, it ſhines with Patience. This Fellowſhip, was then with Iudging Eyes Vnited to the twelue great Companies: It being farre more Worthy, than to Fill A File inferiour; — You's the Sunne's guilt Hill: On toot: Ioue guardes you on: Cyclopes a Ring Make with your Hammers, to whoſe Muſicke Sing.