Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T21: cupid, venus, love, ceres, diana, fair, nymphs, goddess, bow, damon.
When Sol shall make the Eastern Seas his bed, When Wolves and Sheep shall be together fed; When Stars shall fall, and planets cease to wander, When Iuno proves a Bawd, and Iupiter a Pander; When Venus shall turn Chaste, and Bacchus become sober, When fruit in April's ripe, that blossomed in October; When Prodigals shall money lend on use, And Usurers prove lavish and profuse; When Art shall be esteemed, and golden pelf laid down, When Fame shall tell all truth, & Fortune cease to frown, To Cupid's yoke then I my neck will bow; Till then, I will not fear love's fatal blow. Wert thou a mere spirit, than I confess, And think, this resolution might endure; But so long as thy soul wears robes of earth, Laced all with veins, that o'er a Crimson deep, Set forth an Azure bright; needs must thy heart Yield to the force of Cupid's golden dart. OH impotent desires, allay the sad consort Of a sublime Fortune, whose most ambitious flames Disdain to burn in simple Cottages, Loathing a hard unpolished bed; But Coveting to shine beneath a Canopy Of rich Sydonian purple; all embroidered With purest gold, and oriental Pearls; In tesselated pavements, and guilded roofs, Supported by proud artificial Columns, Of polished Ivory and Marble; doth love delight There; doth he, like a mighty Tyrant, rage, Subverting the whole edifice of reason With his impetuous conflagration: That this is true, the gentle Shepherdess Fair Eglantine doth evidently show: For she, a sister to the great Cynosbatus, Was Courted lately by the Shepherd Rhodon: Whose suit she entertained with due respect, Requiting love with love: but Fate (it seems) Not condescending that great Hymen should Accomplish their desires; forbade the Banes, And Rhodon hath relinquished his suit; And is returned to Hybla sweet; whose flowery vales Began to droop, and wither in his absence. But Eglantine remains disconsolate; Like to a Turtle that hath lost her mate. See where she comes, expressing in her face A perfect Map of melancholy: I will retire, because I well descry, she's out of love with all society. Address thyself sweet warbling Instrument, My sorrows sad Companion; to tune forth Thy melancholy notes; somewhat to slake Those furious flames that scorch my tender heart. Upon the black Rock of despair My youthful joys are perished quite, My hopes are vanished into air, My day is turned to gloomy night: For since my Rhodon dear is gone, Hope, light, nor comfort, have I none. A Cell, where grief the Landlord is, Shall be my palace of delight; Where I will woo with votes and sighs, Sweet death to end my sorrows quite; Since I have lost my Rhodon dear, Death's fleshless arms why should I fear? What time shall end thy sorrows, sweetest Eglantine? Such grief as mine cannot be cured by time. But when the gentle fates shall disembogue My weary soul, and that Celestial substance free From irksome manacles of clay; then may I find, If not a sweet repose in blessed Elysium, Yet some refrigeration in those shades, Where Dido and Hypsiphile do wander.
nodes 191–262 (positions in the processed text, not lines of the printed book) · chunk 4 of 27 in this edition
Length
522 words · 736 tokens
Topic (seed 42)
T21 — Cupid, Venus and the nymphscross-work theme (confirmed, in the genre comparison) · typicality 0.804 (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)
When Sol shall make the Easterne Seas his bed, When Wolves and Sheepe shall be together fed; When Starres shall fall, and planets cease to wander, When Iuno proves a Bawd, and Iupiter a Pander; When Venus shalturn Chast, and Bacchus become sober, When fruit in April's ripe, that blossom'd in October; When Prodigals shall money lend on use, And Vsurers prove lavish and profuse; When Art shal be esteem'd, and golden pelfe laid down, When Fame shal tel all truth, & Fortune cease to frown, To Cupids yoke then I my necke will bow; Till then, I will not feare loves fatall blow. Wert thou a meere spirit, then I confesse, And thinke, this resolution might endure; But so long as thy soule weares robes of earth, Lac'd all with veynes, that o're a Crimson deepe, Set forth an Azure bright; needs must thy heart Yeeld to the force of Cupids golden dart. OH impotent desires, allay the sad consort Of a sublime Fortune, whose most ambitious flames Disdaine to burne in simple Cottages, Loathing a hard unpolish'd bed; But Coveting to shine beneath a Canopy Of rich Sydonian purple; all imbroider'd With purest gold, and orientall Pearles; In tesselated pavements, and guilded roofes, Supported by proud artificiall Columnes, Of polish'd Ivory and Marble; doth love delight There; doth he, like a mighty Tyrant, rage, Subverting the whole edifice of reason With his impetuous conflagration: That this is true, the gentle Shepheardesse Faire Eglantine doth evidently shew: For she, a sister to the great Cynosbatus, Was Courted lately by the Shepheard Rhodon: Whose suit she entertain'd with due respect, Requiting love with love: but Fate (it seemes) Not condescending that great Hymen should Accomplish their desires; forbade the Banes, And Rhodon hath relinquished his suit; And is return'd to Hybla sweet; whose flowry vales Began to droope, and wither in his absence. But Eglantine remaines disconsolate; Like to a Turtle that hath lost her mate. See where she comes, expressing in her face A perfect Map of mellancholy: I will retire, because I well desery, Shee's out of love with all society. Addresse thy selfe sweet warbling Instrument, My sorrowes sad Companion; to tune forth Thy melancholly notes; somewhat to slake Those furious flames that scorch my tender heart. Vpon the blacke Rocke of despaire My youthfull ioyes are perish'd quite, My hopes are vanish'd into ayre, My day is turn'd to gloomy night: For since my Rhodon deare is gone, Hope, light, nor comfort, have I none. A Cell, where griefe the Landlord is, Shall be my palace of delight; Where I will wooe with votes and sighes, Sweet death to end my sorrowes quite; Since I have lost my Rhodon deare, Deaths fleshlesse armes why should I feare? What time shal end thy sorrowes, sweetest Eglantine? Such griefe as mine cannot be cur'd by time. But when the gentle fates shall disembogue My weary soule, and that Celestiall substance free From irkesome manacles of clay; then may I finde, If not a sweet repose in blest Elysium, Yet some refrigeration in those shades, Where Dido and Hypsiphile do wander.