A Journey to Hell or, A Visit paid to the Devil. A poem. The Second Edition [by Edward Ward] |
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| I. |
| I. |
| II. | CANTO II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| II. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| III. |
| I. |
| II. |
 | A Journey to Hell |  |
8
CANTO II.
My Resolutions now much stronger grew,
My first Intentions to at last pursue,
Charon I call'd, his leaky Boat to Freight,
Who in's infernal Pinnace nodding sate:
Hearing a Voice he started, and with speed,
He drag'd his rotten Bark from Mud and Weed:
With painful pulls he brought her to the Shore,
Black with the Guilt of those he'd wafted o'er.
The grisly Churl ask'd whither I wou'd go,
Up to Elizium, or the Shades below.
I told him I to Pluto's Court was bound,
Where restless Souls amid'st their Pains are found.
The frowning Pilot finding me alone,
E'en bid me wait, for he'd not carry One.
'Twas I, said he, this Ferry first began,
And held it ever since the Fall of Man,
But never yet, as Pluto knows full well,
E'er wafted o'er one single Soul to Hell.
On Earth of what Imployment could'st thou be,
Who com'st so destitute of Company:
Hard was thy Fate, to these dark Shades unknown,
Thou art the first that e'er was Damn'd alone.
My first Intentions to at last pursue,
Charon I call'd, his leaky Boat to Freight,
Who in's infernal Pinnace nodding sate:
Hearing a Voice he started, and with speed,
He drag'd his rotten Bark from Mud and Weed:
With painful pulls he brought her to the Shore,
Black with the Guilt of those he'd wafted o'er.
The grisly Churl ask'd whither I wou'd go,
Up to Elizium, or the Shades below.
I told him I to Pluto's Court was bound,
Where restless Souls amid'st their Pains are found.
The frowning Pilot finding me alone,
E'en bid me wait, for he'd not carry One.
'Twas I, said he, this Ferry first began,
And held it ever since the Fall of Man,
But never yet, as Pluto knows full well,
E'er wafted o'er one single Soul to Hell.
On Earth of what Imployment could'st thou be,
Who com'st so destitute of Company:
Hard was thy Fate, to these dark Shades unknown,
Thou art the first that e'er was Damn'd alone.
I heard his Questions, but no Answer made,
And what he further ask'd did still evade,
With humble Words, that with him might prevail,
To take his Fare on Board and set up Sail.
But all my soft Perswasions would not make,
The grim Tarpaulin his old Custom break,
Who gently row'd his Ferry to and fro,
Bauling aloud, Hey, downward, downward ho.
Thus for more Company being forc'd to wait,
Down on the Bank, amongst the Weeds, I sat,
And looking round me, at a distance saw,
A loit'ring Crowd towards Charon's Ferry draw:
They gently crept along, oft seem'd to stay,
And hung their Arses as if bound my way:
So the Wretch, drove to suffer for his Crime,
Now steps, then stops, to lengthen out the Time.
And what he further ask'd did still evade,
With humble Words, that with him might prevail,
To take his Fare on Board and set up Sail.
9
The grim Tarpaulin his old Custom break,
Who gently row'd his Ferry to and fro,
Bauling aloud, Hey, downward, downward ho.
Thus for more Company being forc'd to wait,
Down on the Bank, amongst the Weeds, I sat,
And looking round me, at a distance saw,
A loit'ring Crowd towards Charon's Ferry draw:
They gently crept along, oft seem'd to stay,
And hung their Arses as if bound my way:
So the Wretch, drove to suffer for his Crime,
Now steps, then stops, to lengthen out the Time.
Charon look'd out, the Multitude drew nigh,
P--- on 'em, says the Churl, this sooty fry
Are Lawyers Souls, I know them by their dye.
Close to the Stygian Banks at last they came,
Showing some signs of Sorrow, some of Shame:
Despair and Anguish in their Looks I read,
Each did his sultry unknown Voyage dread;
And Transport-like, as gladly would be drown'd,
As see the slavish Shore to which they're bound.
Charon pull'd near, but grumbl'd in the Throat,
Your pondrous Ills will never let me float,
You always come in Crowds, enough to sink my Boat:
If Hell in such mean Traffick means to Trade,
Pluto must get a stronger Vessel made:
But come, step in, and do not make me stay,
Pray trim the Boat, whilst I my Stretcher lay.
P--- on 'em, says the Churl, this sooty fry
Are Lawyers Souls, I know them by their dye.
Close to the Stygian Banks at last they came,
Showing some signs of Sorrow, some of Shame:
Despair and Anguish in their Looks I read,
Each did his sultry unknown Voyage dread;
And Transport-like, as gladly would be drown'd,
As see the slavish Shore to which they're bound.
Charon pull'd near, but grumbl'd in the Throat,
Your pondrous Ills will never let me float,
You always come in Crowds, enough to sink my Boat:
If Hell in such mean Traffick means to Trade,
Pluto must get a stronger Vessel made:
But come, step in, and do not make me stay,
Pray trim the Boat, whilst I my Stretcher lay.
10
Then in we hobl'd from a steep Descent,
Hoisted up Sail, and on our way we went;
I, not confin'd by the Decree of Fate,
Amongst the sighing Crew with Pleasure sate,
Bearing some glim'rings of Celestial Light,
With them compar'd, look'd innocent and bright,
As the tan'd Mariner 'mongst Negro Slaves looks white.
My Soul was light, and they so weighty were,
We held no poize, made Charon curse his Fare.
Who pull'd and puff'd, still roar'd with open Throat,
W---nds move your Shades, and better trim the Boat,
The Larboard Gunhil's almost under Water;
For me, the Devil waft such Fares hereafter.
My Soul considering her diviner Air,
No ballance with their heavy Crimes could bear,
Stept from the side, and in the Center got,
And to the Churls content well trim'd the Boat,
Which Charon skull'd a head with mighty pains,
Deep Laden as a Western Barge from Stains.
Downwards our Course, and as more way we made,
The Rocky Beach still loftier rais'd its Head;
Whose thistly Product all look'd parch'd and dry,
Like Weeds long how'd that in the Sun-shine lye:
Vapours condens'd hung low'ring o'er each Head,
And sporting Dæmons round the Vessel play'd:
Night-Ravens, Bats, and Screech-Owls then drew near,
To give old Charon, as he pass'd, a Chear;
And with their horrid Shrieks alarm'd each frighted Ear,
Mix'd with the Groans of filthy Souls from Stews,
Condemn'd to Fetters in the stinking Owse.
Thus the black Judge such Punishment contrives,
As bears proportion to their odious Lives.
Serpents, like River-fish, their freaks would take,
And skip above the surface of the Lake;
Where Furies came from their more curs'd abodes,
To catch and bundle up their snaky Rods.
Hoisted up Sail, and on our way we went;
I, not confin'd by the Decree of Fate,
Amongst the sighing Crew with Pleasure sate,
Bearing some glim'rings of Celestial Light,
With them compar'd, look'd innocent and bright,
As the tan'd Mariner 'mongst Negro Slaves looks white.
My Soul was light, and they so weighty were,
We held no poize, made Charon curse his Fare.
Who pull'd and puff'd, still roar'd with open Throat,
W---nds move your Shades, and better trim the Boat,
The Larboard Gunhil's almost under Water;
For me, the Devil waft such Fares hereafter.
My Soul considering her diviner Air,
No ballance with their heavy Crimes could bear,
Stept from the side, and in the Center got,
And to the Churls content well trim'd the Boat,
Which Charon skull'd a head with mighty pains,
Deep Laden as a Western Barge from Stains.
Downwards our Course, and as more way we made,
The Rocky Beach still loftier rais'd its Head;
Whose thistly Product all look'd parch'd and dry,
Like Weeds long how'd that in the Sun-shine lye:
Vapours condens'd hung low'ring o'er each Head,
And sporting Dæmons round the Vessel play'd:
Night-Ravens, Bats, and Screech-Owls then drew near,
To give old Charon, as he pass'd, a Chear;
And with their horrid Shrieks alarm'd each frighted Ear,
Mix'd with the Groans of filthy Souls from Stews,
Condemn'd to Fetters in the stinking Owse.
11
As bears proportion to their odious Lives.
Serpents, like River-fish, their freaks would take,
And skip above the surface of the Lake;
Where Furies came from their more curs'd abodes,
To catch and bundle up their snaky Rods.
Charon now tir'd, his labouring Oar forsook,
A Dram of some infernal Spirits took,
And 'twixt his Jaws a Pipe of flaming Sulphur stuck;
Then to his Oars himself again apply'd,
And to his Fare the merry Slave thus cry'd,
Chear up, ye sullen Shades, and be not dull;
(Then adding strength, he gave a strenuous pull;)
You who'n the upper World, in long delays
Of Justice, and in Quarrels spend your Days,
Hold up your drooping Heads, more Courage show,
Than fear th'immortal Discords here below.
You that have pass'd the Adamantine Gates,
Grim King of Terrors, and the moody Fates,
Shake off your cowardly Fears, and with a Grace
Look the stern Prince of Darkness in the Face.
They shook their Ears, and signs of Horror show'd,
Great their Despair, and great their sinful load:
Their guilty Forms no Comfort cou'd receive,
Or could they one defensive Answer give,
But hung their thoughtful Heads, look'd Al-a-mort,
Like sullen Convicts in a Tyburn-Cart.
A Dram of some infernal Spirits took,
And 'twixt his Jaws a Pipe of flaming Sulphur stuck;
Then to his Oars himself again apply'd,
And to his Fare the merry Slave thus cry'd,
Chear up, ye sullen Shades, and be not dull;
(Then adding strength, he gave a strenuous pull;)
You who'n the upper World, in long delays
Of Justice, and in Quarrels spend your Days,
Hold up your drooping Heads, more Courage show,
Than fear th'immortal Discords here below.
You that have pass'd the Adamantine Gates,
Grim King of Terrors, and the moody Fates,
Shake off your cowardly Fears, and with a Grace
Look the stern Prince of Darkness in the Face.
They shook their Ears, and signs of Horror show'd,
Great their Despair, and great their sinful load:
Their guilty Forms no Comfort cou'd receive,
Or could they one defensive Answer give,
But hung their thoughtful Heads, look'd Al-a-mort,
Like sullen Convicts in a Tyburn-Cart.
12
By this time to a narrow Gulph we came,
The Lake descending in a rapid Stream;
Darkness all round above our Heads were set,
Lock'd in with Mountains in conjunction met;
Where clacks of Whips, and distant Yells were heard,
But nothing seen, Night only here appear'd.
This Current brought us to the deep Abyss,
Unknown to Light, to Harmony, and Peace,
Where Souls the painful Stings of Conscience bear,
And nothing dwells but Horror and Despair,
B'ing come to th'brink of the Infernal Cell,
Our Pilot steering to the Wharf of Hell,
Landed his Fare, and bid us all farewell.
The Lake descending in a rapid Stream;
Darkness all round above our Heads were set,
Lock'd in with Mountains in conjunction met;
Where clacks of Whips, and distant Yells were heard,
But nothing seen, Night only here appear'd.
This Current brought us to the deep Abyss,
Unknown to Light, to Harmony, and Peace,
Where Souls the painful Stings of Conscience bear,
And nothing dwells but Horror and Despair,
B'ing come to th'brink of the Infernal Cell,
Our Pilot steering to the Wharf of Hell,
Landed his Fare, and bid us all farewell.
| A Journey to Hell | |