Marked words are the most distinguishing words of T36: hell, earth, gods, death, ghosts, blood, bloody, heaven, night, ghost.
When that annoyance shall be vanished quite, The wandering ghosts will still remain, and fright The baleful place; ploughmen shall fear to toil In furrows of this ill-manured soil. This ghostly land of ours perchance shall be ta'en for Avernus by posterity, And claimed by Pluto as his monarchy, Where thousand wandering souls together fly. Clear Dirce shall be made the poet's theme, Instead of muddy Styx, whose fatal stream The ghosts so strive to be transported over By churlish Charon to Elysium's shore: And rather than so great an host should seem Exiled from thence, it will be thought by them Another Acheron shall here be made, And they possess their own Elysian shade. What shall we do to cure this fatal stain Upon our nation? Nothing but complain. MY fears have brought me early to this place. The night is young; No watches yet are set. How sad and deep a silence does possess These mourning fields! but why should that seem strange! Why shake I thus? Why do my coward thoughts Tell me 'tis ominous? is it not night? And who dares tread on this forbidden ground? The Ravens, Wolves, and vultures here have filled Their hungry maws, and now are gone to rest. What noise should I expect, unless the Ghosts Of these dead Greeks with querulous cries should fill The air of night? what horror thus invades me? Is it because the screech owl cried about me Passing the gates of Thebes? because tonight I have so often stumbled on dead men? Tut; these are toys for children, let not fear, That ever was a stranger to this breast, Reign in it now. But 'tis Antigone, Whom cruel virtue will command tonight Into a world of danger, is the cause Of all my fear. Oh fair Antigone, Why art thou good? so excellently good, To make me more than wretched? you bright stars, That do alternately with Phoebus rule And measure time, if virtue be a kin To heaven and you, if your fair influence Govern this lower world, let not the night, Which is your time of reign, give privilege To murders, witchcrafts, and infernal arts, Whilst virtue suffers, and white innocence Is made a prey. I'll watch the fields tonight; But not be seen, till time require mine aid. Secretly shrouded in yond Cypress grove I'll watch what fortunes do attend my love. Madam, the place is near; the noisome air, Which those unburied carcases exhale, Grows stronger still, and from that feeble shine, Which to the night half-clouded Cynthia lends, How large a shade the lofty Theban walls Spread o'er this field of death! those twinkling lights, Which we from hence discern, burn in the tower Of Creon's cruel watch.
seed 43: T32 · seed 44: T26 — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
When that annoyance ſhall be vaniſh'd quite, The wandring ghoſts will ſtill remaine, and fright The bafefull place; plowmen ſhall feare to toyle In furrowes of this ill-manured ſoyle. This ghoſtly land of ours perchance ſhall be Tane for Avernus by poſterity, And claim'd by Pluto as his monarchy, Where thouſand wandring ſoules together fly. Cleare Dirce ſhall be made the Poets theame, Inſtead of muddy Styx, whoſe fatall ſtreame The ghoſts ſo ſtriue to be tranſported ore By churliſh Charon to Elyſiums ſhore: And rather then ſo great an hoaſt ſhould ſeeme Exil'd from thence, it will be thought by them Another Acheron ſhall heere be made, And they poſſeſſe their owne Elyſian ſhade. What ſhall we doe to cure this fatall ſtaine Vpon our nation? Nothing but complaine. MY feares haue brought me early to this place. The night is young; No watches yet are ſet. How ſad and deepe a ſilence does poſſeſſe Theſe mourning fields! but why ſhould that ſeeme strange! Why ſhake I thus? Why do my coward thoughts Tell me tis ominous? is it not night? And who dares tread on this forbidden ground? The Rauens, Wolues, and Vulturs heere haue fill'd Their hungry mawes, and now are gone to reſt. What noiſe ſhould I expect, vnleſſe the Ghoſts Of theſe dead Greekes with querulous cryes ſhould fill The aire of night? what horrour thus inuades me? Is it becauſe the Schreich owle cry'd about me Paſſing the gates of Thebes? becauſe to night I haue ſo often ſtumbled on dead men? Tut; theſe are toyes for children, let not feare, That euer was a ſtranger to this breaſt, Reigne in it now. But tis Antigone, Whom cruell vertue will command to night Into a world of danger, is the cauſe Of all my feare. Oh faire Antigone, Why art thou good? ſo excellently good, To make me more then wretched? you bright ſtarres, That doe alternallie with Phoebus rule And meaſure time, if vertue be a kinne To heauen and you, if your faire influence Gouerne this lower world, let not the night, Which is your time of reigne, giue priuiledge To murders, witchcrafts, and infernall arts, Whileſt vertue ſuffers, and white innocence Is made a prey. Ile watch the fields to night; But not be ſeene, till time require mine aide. Secretly ſhrowded in yon Cypreſſe groue Ile watch what fortunes doe attend my loue. Madam, the place is neere; the noiſome aire, Which thoſe vnburyed carcaſſes exhale, Growes ſtronger ſtill, and from that feeble ſhine, Which to the night halfe-clouded Cynthia lends, How large a ſhade the lofty Theban walls Spread ore this field of death! thoſe twinckling lights, Which we from hence diſcerne, burne in the tower Of Creon's cruell watch.