 | The Sixte Tragedie of the most Grave and prude[n]t Author Lvcivs Annaevs Seneca, entituled Troas |  |
The Argument.
The ten yeares siege of Troy, who list to heare,
And of thaffayres that there befell in fight:
Reade ye the workes that long since written were,
Of all Thassaultes, and of that latest night,
When Turrets toppes in Troy they blased bright
Good Clerkes they were that haue it written well
As for this worke, no word therof doth tell.
And of thaffayres that there befell in fight:
Reade ye the workes that long since written were,
Of all Thassaultes, and of that latest night,
When Turrets toppes in Troy they blased bright
Good Clerkes they were that haue it written well
As for this worke, no word therof doth tell.
But Dares Phrygian, well can all report,
With Dictis eke of Crete in Greekish toung
And Homer telles, to Troye the Greekes resort
In scanned verse, and Maro hath it song
Ech one in writ hath pend a stoary long,
Who doubtes of ought, and casteth care to knowe
These antique Authors, shal the story showe,
With Dictis eke of Crete in Greekish toung
And Homer telles, to Troye the Greekes resort
In scanned verse, and Maro hath it song
Ech one in writ hath pend a stoary long,
Who doubtes of ought, and casteth care to knowe
These antique Authors, shal the story showe,
The ruines twayne of Troy, the cause of each,
The glittering helmes, in fieldes the Banners spread,
Achilles yres, and Hectors fightes they teach.
There may the iestes of many a Knight be read:
Patroclus, Pyrrhus, Aiax, Diomed,
With Troylus, Parys, many other more,
That day by day, there fought in field full sore.
The glittering helmes, in fieldes the Banners spread,
Achilles yres, and Hectors fightes they teach.
There may the iestes of many a Knight be read:
Patroclus, Pyrrhus, Aiax, Diomed,
With Troylus, Parys, many other more,
That day by day, there fought in field full sore.
And how the Grekes at end an engine made:
A hugie horse where many a warlike Knight
Enclosed was: the Troians to inuade
With Sinons craft, when Greekes had fayned flight,
While close they lay at Tenedos from sight,
Or hovv Eneas els as other say,
And false Antenor did the tovvne betray.
A hugie horse where many a warlike Knight
Enclosed was: the Troians to inuade
With Sinons craft, when Greekes had fayned flight,
While close they lay at Tenedos from sight,
Or hovv Eneas els as other say,
And false Antenor did the tovvne betray.
But as for me I naught therof endight,
Myne Author hath not all that story pend:
My pen his wordes in English must resight,
Of latest woes that fell on Troy at end,
What finall fates the cruell God could send.
And how the Greekes when Troy was burnt gan wreake
Their ire on Troians, therof shall I speake.
Myne Author hath not all that story pend:
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Of latest woes that fell on Troy at end,
What finall fates the cruell God could send.
And how the Greekes when Troy was burnt gan wreake
Their ire on Troians, therof shall I speake.
Not I with spere who pearced was in fielde,
Whose throate there cutte, or head ycorued was
Ne bloudshed blowes, that rent both targe and shield
Shal I resight, all that I ouerpasse.
The worke I wryght more woeful is alas,
For I the mothers teares must here complayne,
And bloud of babes, that giltles haue bene slayne.
Whose throate there cutte, or head ycorued was
Ne bloudshed blowes, that rent both targe and shield
Shal I resight, all that I ouerpasse.
The worke I wryght more woeful is alas,
For I the mothers teares must here complayne,
And bloud of babes, that giltles haue bene slayne.
And such as yet could neuer weapon wreast,
But on the lap are wont to dandled bee,
Ne yet forgotten had the mothers breast,
How Greekes them slew (alas) here shal ye see
To make report therof ay woe is mee,
My song is mischife, murder, misery,
And hereof speakes this doleful tragedy.
But on the lap are wont to dandled bee,
Ne yet forgotten had the mothers breast,
How Greekes them slew (alas) here shal ye see
To make report therof ay woe is mee,
My song is mischife, murder, misery,
And hereof speakes this doleful tragedy.
Thou fury fel that from the deepest den
Couldst cause this wrath of hell on Troy to light,
That worckest woe guyde thou my hand and pen,
In weeping verse of sobbes and sighes to wryght,
As doth myne author them bewayle aright:
Helpe woefull muse for mee besemeth wel
Of others teares, with weeping eye to tell.
Couldst cause this wrath of hell on Troy to light,
That worckest woe guyde thou my hand and pen,
In weeping verse of sobbes and sighes to wryght,
As doth myne author them bewayle aright:
Helpe woefull muse for mee besemeth wel
Of others teares, with weeping eye to tell.
When battered were to ground the towres of Troy
In writ as auncient authors do resight,
And Greekes agayne repayrde to Seas with ioy,
Vp riseth here from hel Achilles Spright,
Vengeance he craues vvith bloud his death to quight.
Whom Paris had in Phœbus temple slayne,
With guile betrapt for loue of Polyxeine.
In writ as auncient authors do resight,
And Greekes agayne repayrde to Seas with ioy,
Vp riseth here from hel Achilles Spright,
Vengeance he craues vvith bloud his death to quight.
Whom Paris had in Phœbus temple slayne,
With guile betrapt for loue of Polyxeine.
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And wrath of hel there is none other pryce
That may asswage: but bloud of her alone
Polyxena he craues for sacrifyce,
With threatninges on the Grecians many one
Except they shed her bloud before they gone.
The Sprightes the hell, and depest pittes beneath,
O Virgin dere, (alas) do thrust thy death.
That may asswage: but bloud of her alone
Polyxena he craues for sacrifyce,
With threatninges on the Grecians many one
Except they shed her bloud before they gone.
The Sprightes the hell, and depest pittes beneath,
O Virgin dere, (alas) do thrust thy death.
And Hectors sonne, Astyanax (alas)
Pore seely foole his Mothers onely ioy,
Is iudgd to die by sentence of Calchas
Alas the whyle, to death is led the boy,
And tumbled downe from Turrets tops in Troy.
What ruthful teares may serue to wayle the woe
Of Hectors wyfe that doth her child forgoe.
Pore seely foole his Mothers onely ioy,
Is iudgd to die by sentence of Calchas
Alas the whyle, to death is led the boy,
And tumbled downe from Turrets tops in Troy.
What ruthful teares may serue to wayle the woe
Of Hectors wyfe that doth her child forgoe.
Her pinching pange of hart who may expresse,
But such as of like woes, haue borne a part?
Or who bewayle her ruthful heauines
That neuer yet hath felt therof the smart?
Ful well they wot the woes of heauy hart.
What is to leese a babe from mothers breast,
They know that are in such a case distrest.
But such as of like woes, haue borne a part?
Or who bewayle her ruthful heauines
That neuer yet hath felt therof the smart?
Ful well they wot the woes of heauy hart.
What is to leese a babe from mothers breast,
They know that are in such a case distrest.
First how the Queene lamentes the fall of Troy,
As hath mine author done, I shall it wryght
Next how from Hectors wyfe they led the boy
To die, and her complayntes I shall resight,
The maydens death then I must last endight.
Now who that liste the Queenes complaint to here.
In following verse it shall forthwith appeare.
As hath mine author done, I shall it wryght
Next how from Hectors wyfe they led the boy
To die, and her complayntes I shall resight,
The maydens death then I must last endight.
Now who that liste the Queenes complaint to here.
In following verse it shall forthwith appeare.
| The Sixte Tragedie of the most Grave and prude[n]t Author Lvcivs Annaevs Seneca, entituled Troas | |