 | The Works of Mr. Henry Needler |  |
22
A SEA-PIECE. Sent in a Letter from Portsmouth, in October, 1711.
When stormy Winds in Northern Caverns sleep,
Nor with tempestuous Blasts disturb the Deep,
A smooth unwrinkled Plain accosts the Eye,
Which seems to meet and reach the bending Sky;
One Even, Uniform, Unvari'd Scene
On ev'ry Side extends its wat'ry Green,
A spacious Field, which leaves the Sight behind
By Nature to a nearer Bound confin'd.
But Here no Rocks the foaming Billows lave;
No craggy Cliffs impend the breaking Wave;
The winding Shore a level Prospect yields
Of verdant Meadows and of fruitful Fields.
Nor with tempestuous Blasts disturb the Deep,
A smooth unwrinkled Plain accosts the Eye,
Which seems to meet and reach the bending Sky;
One Even, Uniform, Unvari'd Scene
On ev'ry Side extends its wat'ry Green,
A spacious Field, which leaves the Sight behind
By Nature to a nearer Bound confin'd.
But Here no Rocks the foaming Billows lave;
No craggy Cliffs impend the breaking Wave;
The winding Shore a level Prospect yields
Of verdant Meadows and of fruitful Fields.
When first a Ship, that Monster of the Flood,
(By simple Indians thought some thund'ring God)
Within the narrow Verge of Sight appears,
Her tall strait Mast above the Sea she rears,
Whilst yet her turgid Hull the Waters hide
And convex Surface of the swelling Tide.
The whole Machine a nearer Distance shows,
And all the Parts, which her fair Frame compose;
Proudly she rides in Triumph o'er the Main,
Whose briny Waves her stately Load sustain;
Her gaudy Streamers flow with wanton Gales,
And prosp'rous Winds distend her spreading Sails:
With gladden'd Heart the chearful Sailor spies
The smiling Aspect of the Seas and Skies;
No Rocks nor Shelves the skilful Pilot fears,
But sitting at the Helm securely steers.
(By simple Indians thought some thund'ring God)
23
Her tall strait Mast above the Sea she rears,
Whilst yet her turgid Hull the Waters hide
And convex Surface of the swelling Tide.
The whole Machine a nearer Distance shows,
And all the Parts, which her fair Frame compose;
Proudly she rides in Triumph o'er the Main,
Whose briny Waves her stately Load sustain;
Her gaudy Streamers flow with wanton Gales,
And prosp'rous Winds distend her spreading Sails:
With gladden'd Heart the chearful Sailor spies
The smiling Aspect of the Seas and Skies;
No Rocks nor Shelves the skilful Pilot fears,
But sitting at the Helm securely steers.
When if a sudden Storm the Ocean sweep
With furious Blast, and lash the frothy Deep,
By Tempests vext the raging Billows roar,
And dash their foamy Heads against the Shore;
Night all around her sable Wings extends,
Save where more horrid Day the Lightning lends:
Here rolling Waves in wat'ry Mountains rise,
And there a dreadful gaping Valley lies.
The trembling Sailor now of Life despairs,
And flies to his last Refuge, Vows and Pray'rs,
On bended Knees of angry Heav'n implores
To land him safely on the Neighb'ring Shores;
In rattling Thunder, Heav'n his Pray'r returns,
And with red Lightning all the Welkin burns;
Each glaring Flash the Wretch with Horror views,
And with repeated Cries for Mercy sues.
From Wave to Wave the bandy'd Vessel's tost;
Torn are her Sails, and all her Rigging lost:
Now 'mongst the starry Heights she mounting rides,
Down to the lowest Deep she now subsides.
In vain the Men their Strength and Skill employ,
The boist'rous Winds their weak Attempts defy;
Unguided, by the driving Storm at last
She on some Rock or Bank of Sand is cast:
Th' impetuous Shock her Hull in Pieces breaks,
And fills her hollow Womb with doleful Shrieks;
Now Dread and Horror of impending Fate
Do blackest Thoughts in ev'ry Breast create;
Some from the Deck forsake the bulging Ship,
And 'midst the raging Sea for Safety leap.
A few, a very few of these, the Beach,
Drove by the Waves on floating Timbers, reach;
The rest, by the contending Billows tost,
At length are in the swelling Ocean lost.
With furious Blast, and lash the frothy Deep,
By Tempests vext the raging Billows roar,
And dash their foamy Heads against the Shore;
Night all around her sable Wings extends,
Save where more horrid Day the Lightning lends:
24
And there a dreadful gaping Valley lies.
The trembling Sailor now of Life despairs,
And flies to his last Refuge, Vows and Pray'rs,
On bended Knees of angry Heav'n implores
To land him safely on the Neighb'ring Shores;
In rattling Thunder, Heav'n his Pray'r returns,
And with red Lightning all the Welkin burns;
Each glaring Flash the Wretch with Horror views,
And with repeated Cries for Mercy sues.
From Wave to Wave the bandy'd Vessel's tost;
Torn are her Sails, and all her Rigging lost:
Now 'mongst the starry Heights she mounting rides,
Down to the lowest Deep she now subsides.
In vain the Men their Strength and Skill employ,
The boist'rous Winds their weak Attempts defy;
Unguided, by the driving Storm at last
She on some Rock or Bank of Sand is cast:
Th' impetuous Shock her Hull in Pieces breaks,
And fills her hollow Womb with doleful Shrieks;
Now Dread and Horror of impending Fate
Do blackest Thoughts in ev'ry Breast create;
25
And 'midst the raging Sea for Safety leap.
A few, a very few of these, the Beach,
Drove by the Waves on floating Timbers, reach;
The rest, by the contending Billows tost,
At length are in the swelling Ocean lost.
Bold was his Soul who made the first Essay
Upon the Main, and shew'd Mankind the Way
To pass the Limits of their native Shore,
To visit distant Lands, and unknown Worlds explore:
By Him, we our domestic Poverty
Were taught by Foreign Traffick to supply;
To ev'ry Part of the whole Globe we roam,
And bring the Riches of each Climate home;
With Northern Furrs we're clad and Eastern Gold,
Yet know nor India's Heat, nor Russia's Cold;
We taste the Wines, that sultry Soils produce,
Free from the scorching Beams, which raise the noble Juice;
Knowledge and Plenty fetch from ev'ry Shore,
With Arts our Minds, with Wealth our Coffers store.
Upon the Main, and shew'd Mankind the Way
To pass the Limits of their native Shore,
To visit distant Lands, and unknown Worlds explore:
By Him, we our domestic Poverty
Were taught by Foreign Traffick to supply;
To ev'ry Part of the whole Globe we roam,
And bring the Riches of each Climate home;
With Northern Furrs we're clad and Eastern Gold,
Yet know nor India's Heat, nor Russia's Cold;
We taste the Wines, that sultry Soils produce,
Free from the scorching Beams, which raise the noble Juice;
Knowledge and Plenty fetch from ev'ry Shore,
With Arts our Minds, with Wealth our Coffers store.
26
The British Race, 'till by the Romans led
They first the flutt'ring Canvas learn'd to spread,
Savage and wild, by Commerce unrefin'd,
Differ'd but little from the Brutal Kind;
Uncultivated, ignorant and rude,
A painted Herd, they rang'd the Plains and Wood,
And prey'd upon their Fellow Brutes for Food:
With Terror often from the neighb'ring Shore
They view'd the stormy Waves, and heard them roar,
But never durst a Thought to entertain,
Of vent'ring on the Surface of the Main:
Beyond the Sea they sought no Lands unknown,
Nor dream'd of other Climes besides their own.
They first the flutt'ring Canvas learn'd to spread,
Savage and wild, by Commerce unrefin'd,
Differ'd but little from the Brutal Kind;
Uncultivated, ignorant and rude,
A painted Herd, they rang'd the Plains and Wood,
And prey'd upon their Fellow Brutes for Food:
With Terror often from the neighb'ring Shore
They view'd the stormy Waves, and heard them roar,
But never durst a Thought to entertain,
Of vent'ring on the Surface of the Main:
Beyond the Sea they sought no Lands unknown,
Nor dream'd of other Climes besides their own.
| The Works of Mr. Henry Needler | |