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The Earth-quake of Jamaica, describ'd in a Pindarick Poem, 1692.
By Mr. TUTCHIN.
I.
Well may our Lives bear an uncertain Date;Disturb'd with Maladies within,
Without by cross Events of Fate,
The worst of Plagues on Mortals wait,
Pride, Ignorance, and Sin.
If our antient Mother Earth,
Who gave us all untimely Birth,
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If Orbs are from their Axles torn,
And Mountains into Valleys worn,
All in a Moment's space;
Can Humane Race
Stand on their Legs when Nature reels?
Unhappy Man! in all things cross'd,
On every giddy Wave of Fortune toss'd:
The only thing that aims at Sway,
And yet capricious Fate must still obey;
Travels for Wealth to Foreign Lands,
O'er scorching Mountains, and o'er Desart Sands,
Laden with Gold, when homeward bound,
Is in one vast impetuous Billow drown'd:
Or if he reaches to the Shoar,
And there unlades his Oar,
Builds Towns and Houses which may last and stand,
Thinking no Wealth so sure as the firm Land;
Yet Fate the Animal does still pursue;
This slides from underneath his Feet, and leaves him too.
II.
Environ'd with Ten thousand Fears we live,For Fate do's seldom a just Warning give;
Quicker than Thought its dire Resolves are made,
And swift as Lightning flies,
Around the vast extended Skies:
All things are by its Bolts in vast Confusion laid.
Sometimes a flaming Comet does appear,
Whose very Visage does pronounce
Decay of Kingdoms, and the Fall of Crowns,
Intestine War, or Pestilential Year;
Sometimes a Hurricane of Fate
Does on some Great Man's Exit wait,
A murder'd Cornish, or some Hercules,
When from their Trunks Almighty Jove,
Who breaks with Thunder weighty Clouds above,
To honour these,
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And in a Whirlwind lays 'em upon Oeta's Top.
E'er this vast Orb shall unto Chaos turn,
And with consuming Flames shall burn,
An Angel Trumpeter shall come,
Whose Noise shall shake the Massy Ground,
In one short Moment shall express
His Notes to the whole Universe;
The very Dead shall hear his Sound,
And from their Graves repair
To the Impartial Bar;
Those that have been in the deep Ocean drown'd,
Shall at his Call come to receive their Doom.
III.
But here, alas! no Omens fly,No secret Whisper of their Destiny
Was heard; none cou'd divine
When Fate wou'd spring the Mine:
Safe and secure the Mortals go,
Not dreaming of a Hell below,
In the dark Caverns of the gloomy Earth,
Where suffocating Sulphur has its Birth,
And sparkling Nitre's made;
Where Vulcan and his Cyclops prove
The Thunderbolts they make for Jove.
Here Æolus his Winds has laid,
Here is his Windy Palace, here 'tis said
His Race of little puffing Gods are bred,
Which serve for Bellows to blow up the Flame.
The dire Ingredients are in order plac'd,
Which must anon lay Towns and Cities waste.
Strait the black Engineer of Heaven came,
His Match a Sun-beam was,
He swift as Time unto the Train did pass,
It soon took Fire; the Fire and Winds contend,
But both concur the Vaulted Earth to rend;
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Aiming at Heaven, it sunk to Hell:
The Neighb'ring Seas now own no more
The sturdy Bulwarks of the Shoar;
The gaping Earth and greedy Sea,
Are both contending for the Prey;
Those whom the rav'nous Earth had ta'ne
Into her Bowels back again,
Are wash't from thence by the insulting Main.
IV.
The Old and Young receive alike their Doom,The Cowards and the Brave
Are buried in one Grave;
For Fate allows 'em all one Common Tomb.
The Aged and the Wise
Lose all their Reason in the great Surprise.
They know not where to go,
And yet they dare not stay,
There's Fire and Smoak below,
And the Earth gaping to receive the Prey.
If to the Houses Top they crawl,
These tumble too, and downwards fall:
And if they fly into the Street,
There grizly Death they meet;
All in a hurry die away,
The Wicked had not time to pray.
The Soldier once cou'd teach grim Death to kill,
In vain is all his Skill,
In vain he brandisheth his Steel:
No more the Art of War must teach,
But lies Fate's Trophy underneath the Breach:
The good Companions now no more carouse,
They share the Fate of the declining House,
Healths to their Friends their Bumpers crown'd:
But while they put the Glasses round,
Death steps between the Cup and Lip,
Nor would it let 'em take one parting Sip.
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V.
The Mine is sprung, and a large Breach is made,Whereat strong Troops of Warring Seas invade;
These overflow;
Where Houses stood, and Grass did grow,
All sorts of Fish resort:
They had Dominions large enough before,
But now unbounded by the Shoar,
They o'er the Tops of Houses sport.
The watry Fry their Legions do extend,
And for the new slain Prey contend;
Within the Houses now they roam,
Into their Foe, the very Kitchen, come.
One does the Chimney-hearth assail,
Another flaps the Kettle with his slimy Tail.
No Image there of Death is seen,
No Cook-maid does obstruct their Sway,
They have entirely got the Day.
Those who have once devour'd been
By Mankind, now on Man do feed:
Thus Fate decides, and steps between,
And sometimes gives the Slave the Victor's Meed.
The beauteous Virgins whom the Gods might love,
Cou'd not the Curse of Heav'n remove;
Their Goodness might for Crimes atone,
Inexorable Death spares none.
Their tender Flesh lately so plump and good,
Is now made Fishes and Sea-monsters Food;
In vain they cry,
Heav'n is grown deaf, and no Petition hears,
Their Sighs are answer'd like their Lovers Pray'rs,
They in the Universal Ruin lie.
VI.
Nor is inexorable Fate contentTo ruine one poor Town alone;
More Mischief by the Blow is done:
Death's on a farther Message sent.
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The very Suburbs do partake
Of Martial Law,
Its Forces draw
To every Mountain, Field and Wood;
They ravage all the Neighborhood.
Worse than the weak Assaults of Steel,
Its Instruments of Death all Places feel.
They undiscover'd, like fell Poison kill,
Its Warriors fierce,
The Earth, the Air, and Men do pierce;
And mounted, fight upon the winged Winds.
Here a great Mountain in a Valley's thrown,
And there a Valley to a Mountain grown.
The very Breath of an incensed God
Makes even proud Olympus nod.
Chang'd is the Beauty of the fruitful Isle,
And its fair Woods lop'd for its Funeral Pile,
The moving Earth forms it self into Waves,
And curls its Surface like the rolling Seas;
Whilst Man (that little thing) so vainly Raves,
Nothing but Heaven can its own Wrath appease.
VII.
But Fate at length thought fit to leave its Toil,And greedy Death was glutted with the Spoil.
As weary Soldiers having try'd their Steel,
Half drown'd with Blood, do then desist to kill.
More Ruin wou'd a second Deluge make,
Blot out the Name of the unhappy Isle.
It fares with her, as when in Martial Field,
Resolv'd and Brave, and loth to yield,
Two numerous Armies do contend,
And with repeated Shouts the Air do rend.
Whilst the affrighted Earth does shake,
Some large Battalions are entirely lost,
And warring Squadrons from the mighty Host:
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Some Potent General;
And near to him
Another loses but a Limb.
Part of the Island was a Prey to Fate,
And all the rest do's but prolong its Date,
'Till injur'd Heaven finds
Its Bolts a Terror strike on Human Minds;
Sure we may hope the Sinners there repent,
Since it has made their leudest Priest relent.
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