Poems of Freneau :: :: University of Virginia Library

IN ages past, when smit with warmth sublime,
Their bards foretold the dark events of time,
And piercing forward through the mystic shade,
Kings yet to come, and chiefs unborn survey'd,
Amittai's son perceiv'd, among the rest,
The mighty flame usurp his labouring breast:—
For thus, in dreams, the voice unerring came
Of Him, who lives through every age the same:

“Arise! and o'er the intervening waste,
“To Nineveh's imperial turrets haste;
“That mighty town to ruin I decree,
“Proclaim destruction, and proclaim from me:
“Too long it stands, to God and man a foe,
“Without one virtue left to shield the blow;
“Guilt, black as night, their speedy ruin brings,
“And hottest vengeance from the King of Kings.“

The prophet heard—but dared to disobey,
(Weak as he was) and fled a different way;
In Joppa's port a trading ship he found
Far o'er the main to distant Tarshish bound:

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The price of passage to her chief he paid,
And there conceal'd with wandering sailors stay'd,
His purpose fixt, at once perverse and blind,
To leave his country, and his God behind.

But He who spread the ocean's vast expanse,
And views all nature with a single glance,
Forth from its prison bade the tempest fly—
The tempest swell'd the ocean to the sky;
The trembling barque, as the fierce billow knocks,
Scarce bears the fury of repeated shocks;
Her crew distrest, astonish'd and afraid,
Each to his various god in anguish pray'd,
Nor trust alone to penitence and prayer,
They clear the decks, and for the worst prepare,
The costly lading to the deep they throw,
That lighter o'er the billows she may go,
Nor with regret the wealthy cargo spared,
For wealth is nothing when with life compared.

But to the ship's remotest chambers fled
There pensive Jonah droop'd his languid head,
And, new to all the dangers of the deep,
Had sunk, dejected, in the arms of sleep—
'Twas then the master broke the prophet's rest,
And thus exclaim'd, and smote his frantic breast—
“O sleeper, from thy stupid slumbers rise,
“At such an hour can sleep invade thine eyes?—
“If ever thou to heaven didst send a prayer,
“Now send thy warmest supplications there,
“Perhaps thy God may pity our distress,
“And save us, foundering in this dark abyss.”

Thus warn'd, the seer his vows repentant paid—
Meantime, the seamen to their fellows said:
“No common waves our shatter'd vessel rend,
“There must be one for whom these storms impend,
“Some wretch we bear, for whom these billows rise,
“Foe to the gods, and hated by the skies;
“Come, since the billows all our arts defy,
“Come, let the lot decide for whom we die.”

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Instant the lots amidst the vase they threw
And the markt lot dejected Jonah drew!

Then thus their chief the guilty man address'd,
“Say, for what crime of thine are we distrest?
“What is thy country, what thy calling, say,
“Whence dost thou come, what potentate obey?
“Unfold it all, nor be the truth deny'd.”—
The master spoke, and Jonah thus reply'd:

“A Hebrew I, from neighbouring regions came,
“A Jewish prophet, of no vulgar fame:
“That God I fear who spread this raging sea,
“Who fixt the shores by his supreme decree,
“And reigns throughout immeasurable space,
“His footstool earth, the heaven his dwelling place.
“But I, regardless of his high command,
“His mandate slighting, fled my native land,
“Fool that I was, from Joppa's port to fly,
“Who thought to shun his all-pervading eye!
“For this the tempest rends each tatter'd sail,”
“For this your vessel scarce supports the gale!

The seamen heard, distracted and dismay'd;
When thus again their trembling pilot said:
“How couldst thou thus, ungenerous as thou art,
“Affront thy patron, and with us depart?—
“Lo! for thy crimes, and not our own, we die;
“Mark, how the wild waves threaten from on high,
“Our sails in fragments flit before the blast,
“Scarce to its station we confine the mast;
“What shall we do, unhappy man, declare,
“How shall we act, or how direct our prayer,
“That angry Neptune may his rage restrain,
“And hush once more these tumults of the main?”

The seer reply'd, “The means are in your power
“To still the tempest in this dreadful hour:—
“High on the sea-beat prow will I ascend,
“And let the boldest of your crew attend
“To plunge me headlong from that giddy steep
“Down to the bosom of the unfathom'd deep;

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“So shall the ocean from its raging cease,
“And the fierce tempest soon he hush'd to peace:—
“'Tis for my crimes this angry ocean raves,
“'Tis for my sin we plough these fearful waves;
“Dislodge me soon—the storm shall then decay,
“Which still grows louder while on board I stay.”

Thus he—but they, to save their vagrant guest,
Refus'd as yet to grant his strange request,
And though aloft on mountain waves they ride,
And the tost galley reels from side to side,
Yet to their breasts they drew the sweepy oar,
And vainly strove to gain the distant shore:
The ruffian winds refuse that wish'd retreat,
And fiercer o'er the decks the billows beat.

Then to the skies the chief his prayer addrest,
“Thou Jove supreme, the greatest and the best!
“Because thy sovereign pleasure doth require
“That death alone must satisfy thine ire,
“O spare us for thy dying prophet's sake,
“Nor let us perish for the life we take;
“If we are wrong, his lot was thy decree,
“And thou hast done as it seem'd best to thee.”

Then from the summit of the washy prow,
They plunged the prophet to the depths below,
And straight the winds, and straight the billows cease,
And every threatening surge lay hush'd in peace;
The trembling crew adore the Power Supreme
Who kindly thus from ruin rescued them;
Their vows they send to his imperial throne,
And victims offer to this God unknown.