Fletcher, Phineas · published 1631 · first performed or written 1615 [Mar 13] (Annals) pastoral · at University unassigned nearest T36 Hell, Furies and the language of punishm · 521 words
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
I will retire, not leave him: well, I fear, When two such flood-streams meet, love and despair. Thou blessed Altar, take these worthless offerings, The corral's once more drowned in brine of sorrow, These pearly shells, which daily shall be filled With my heart's water, through my eyes distilled. You corals, whose fresh beauties are a shadow O her sweete blushes, ell her liuing graces, Though now as you plucked from their native places, Are yet as you from your first seat removed, Here fresher shining than when first I loved. Thou rock, that in thy blessed arms dost enfold her, Witness my heart as firm as you do hold her. And now goodnight thou set sun beauties, never, Never more to be seen, goodnight for ever, Thou silver forehead and thou golden hair, My best, my only treasure when you were, You snowy plains, and you fair modest dyes, You living stars, but now two quenched lights, Whose fall, heaven's stars with feared ruin frights. You eyebrows, which like Rainbows two appear; A miracle, Rainbows on sky so clear. And all you unseen beauties softly rest, Sleep, quiet sleep you in this stony chest, I cannot long; I will not long be from you, Shortly i'll come and in this rocky bed Slumber with my Olinda, with Olinda I'll sleep my fill mean time as near as may be, Here rest mine eyes, rest close by your Olinda. Hark, hark; Arion, thou choice Musician, Sing me a note that may awake pale death, Such as may move deaf Hell and Stygian Jove, Such as once Orpheus— O I am idle, idle: Sleep, sleep, mine eyes, this short releasement take you, Sleep, sleep for ever; never more awake you. Her face your object never more shall be, Sleep then, vain eyes, why should you wish to see? Thou worthiest daughter of the greatest light, Most powerful Circe, and thou honoured Glaucus, What duty a poor fisher maid may give you, In thanks, and vows, and holy offerings, Shall still be ready at your sacred altars. Thalander, now to thee, what sacrifice? What offerings may appease thy wronged love? What have I but myself? ah worthless prize Of such, so tried, and so unmoved a faith. Ah, could I spend my body, wear my soul, And then resume another soul and body, And then consume that soul and body for thee, All would not pay the use of half my debt. How pale he looks, how strangely altered! Is he not dead? no, no, his pulse is quick, His heart is strong, and rising, in his heat, Threatens with strokes, my churlish hand to beat: Nature, how couldst in one so firmly tie Perpetual motion to fixed constancy? How can this wonder fall in Notion, A heart unmoved, yet still in motion! Alas he weeps, I hope his grief and fears Swim fast away in those sad streaming tears. thoust mourned enough, more justly may I weep, Leave me thy tears, rest thou and sweetly sleep. Morpheus, one more such dream shall buy me. Where, where art, Olinda? whither, whither fliest thou?
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)
I will retire, not leaue him: well, I feare, When two such flood-streams meet, loue and despaire. Thou blessed Altar, take these worthlesse offring, The corral's once more drown'd in brine of sorrow, These pearly shells, which dayly shall bee fild VVith my hearts water, through my eyes distild. You corralls, whose fresh beautis are a shadow O her sweete blushes, ell her liuing graces, Though now as you pluckt from their natiue places, Are yet as you from your first seate remou'd, Hee fresher shining then when first I lou'd. Thou rocke, that in thy blest armes doest infold her, Witnes my heart as firme as you do hold her. And now goodnight thou set sunne beauties, neuer, Neuer more to be seene, goodnight for euer, Thou siluer forehead and thou golden haire, My best, my onely treasure when you were, You snowy plaines, and you faire modest dies, You liuing stars, but now two quenched lights, Whose fall, heauens stars with feared ruine frights. You eyebrowes, which like Rainbowes two appeare; A miracle, Rainebowes on skie so cleare. And all you vnseene beauties sofly rest, Sleepe, quiet sleepe you in this stony chest, I cannot long; I will not long be from you, Shortly i'le come and in this rockie bed Slumber with my Olinda, with Olinda I'le sleepe my filmeane time as neere as may be, Here rest mine eyes, rest close by your Olinda. Harke, harke; Arion, thou choice Musician, Sing mee a note that may awake pale death, Such as may moue deafe Hell and Stygian Ioe, Such as once Orpheus —O I am idle, idle: Sleep, sleep, mine eyes, this short releasement take you, Sleepe, sleepe for euer; neuer more awake you. Her face your obiect neuer more shall be, Sleepe then, vaine eyes, why should you wish to see? Thou worthiet daughter of the greatest light, Most powerfull Circe, and thon honour'd Glaucus, What dutie a poore fisher maid may giue you, In thankes, and vowes, and holy offerings, Shall still be ready at your sacred altars. Thalander, now to thee, what sacrifice? What offerings may appease thy wronged loue? What haue I but my selfe? ah worthlesse prize Of such, so tryed, and so vnmou'd a faith. Ah, could I spend my body, weare my soule, And then resume another soule and body, And then consume that soule and body for thee, All would not pay the vse of halfe my debt. How pale he lookes, how strangely alter'd! Is he not dead? no, no, his pulse is quicke, His heart is strong, and rising, in his heate, Threatens with strokes, my churlish hand to beate: Nature, how couldst in one so firmely tie Perpetuall motion to fixt constancy? How can this wonder fall in Notion, A heart vnmou'd, yet still in motion! Alas he weepes, I hope his griefe and feares Swimme fast away in those sad streaming teares. Th'ast mourn'd enough, more iustly may I weepe, Leaue me thy teares, rest thou and sweetely sleepe. Morpheus, one more such dreame shall buy me. Where, where art, Olinda? whither, whither flyest thou?