Amorea, The Lost Lover Or The Idea of Love and Misfortune. Being Poems, Sonets, Songs, Odes, Pastoral, Elegies, Lyrick Poems, and Epigrams. Never before printed. Written by Pathericke Jenkin |
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The Authors danger, and deliverance.
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 | Amorea, The Lost Lover |  |
10
The Authors danger, and deliverance.
Haveing left Englands once admired Land,
And reacht the Ocean (Neptunes great command)
The wind our friend, the sometime boistrious Sea.
Lay smooth and calme, such another day
Had scarce been seen a day as if it were
Composed onely of a silent aire.
The foul take pleasure on there flaging wing
The Trytons sound, the subtill Syrens sing,
The greater fish do leap the lesser Skip.
The Princely Dolphyns play about our ship.
And thus be calm'd one takes in hand his Lute
To play a lesson, this man with a Flute
Gives a Leavet, another sings a song,
Of Cloris, and a fourth shewes the wrong
Of Philamela and her chance. But when
It came unto my turn. I took a Pen
With resolution for to dedicate
A Poem of our calme, and quiet state
Unto great Neptune but my Pen and hand,
Were stoped by the voice, and known command
Of our old Pylot, who a far of spies
A Gloomy Cloud, which did begin to rise
With pitchie colour, and anon doth cover,
The surface of the heavens black all over:
And now the winde which was before our friend
No sooner rose, but forthwith did contend,
Against the happiness which heretofore
We did enjoy, the Sea began to roare,
The clouds desolved into rain and we
Could nothing but our present danger see,
The storm rageth and the waves are cast
With lofty force far higher then the Mast,
The night came on, in which on shoar in peace
We use to rest, the tempest doth increase,
The moon doth hide her head as loath to be
A witness of our dismal tragiedy.
The master will not trust unto the helm
None but himself, for fear they overwhelm
The tottered bark; gives his commands at large
That every man stand fast unto his charge,
The horrour, and the darkness of the night,
Concuring with the danger doth affright
Our tired men; again he doth command,
Down with the sailes, be nimble now and stand
Unto your labour try the pump, and see
You lore the top mast, quickly let it be;
Now do we wish for day, which now we have,
Onely in use to light us to our grave,
For with the day the storm doth Augement
Which made us see our dangers eminent.
The helm is now no longer governed,
But by the Sea, the Pilot shakes his head
The glass doth cage, the compass standeth still
And knowes no North all signes of following ill,
The waves do carry us as if we should
Salute the clouds, and instantly it would
Throw us down headlong, leaving us to see
The dangers of the Seas Profundity;
Our rigging shatter'd and our sayles are torne
The naked mast looks like a man forlorne
Nothing but prayer is left, we all implore
The God of mercy for a happy shore;
One man forgiveness of his sins, doth crave,
His prayer is stoped by a cruell wave,
This man to heaven sends his dying cries,
Till fear had dryed the conduits of his eyes
A third weeps for his Children; and another
Cries for his Parents, Sister, and a Brother,
The fifth doth make a vow, if God doth send
Him safe to Land he nere more will offend,
Thus all were fearing, praying, vowing. I,
After my prayers did Amorea cry,
But still the Tempest doth stir up the Sea,
Again we labour and again we pray,
Then did we Sacrifice, unto the Main
Part of our loading but 'twas all in vain
For th' unapeased Sea fil'd all again,
Thus like a second Babell did we fleet.
Confounded in our language, skill and wit,
The master cal'd a loud and bid that man
To hale a rope, he takes the Quarter-Can
And thinkes to drink, but to prevent his care
In comes the Sea, and gives a double share
Unto us all, the Master bideth some
To shift the Ballest, they to Pump do come,
Another he commandeth for to shut
The hatches, he the Ruther-band did cut
Thus all confounded, every one betakes
Himself again to prayer, and each one makes
Him ready for his death, now hopes are past,
And every one doth fear he prayes his last,
But God whose mercy alwaies doth extend
Beyond his Judgments (mercy without end)
In sparing Sinners, when we thought to die
The storme abates, and we the land disery
When presently a Boy to top is forc'd,
Who makes the Land to be the Irish Coast,
Whose swelling Seas so boisterous, fearful, rude,
Do far exceed their Mountains Altitude,
A Coast but too well known for cruell wrack,
The Master calls again, commands the Tack
To be hal'd close Aboard, away he stears,
And in conclusion, (but not void of fears,)
We get our haven; where after prayers given
Unto the God of Earth, the Sea, and Heaven,
With bended knees, erected hands and eyes,
We offer prayers, praise, vows, heart-sacrifice;
We went ashore, where presently I sped
My self of paper, writ, what you have read.
And reacht the Ocean (Neptunes great command)
The wind our friend, the sometime boistrious Sea.
Lay smooth and calme, such another day
Had scarce been seen a day as if it were
Composed onely of a silent aire.
The foul take pleasure on there flaging wing
The Trytons sound, the subtill Syrens sing,
The greater fish do leap the lesser Skip.
The Princely Dolphyns play about our ship.
And thus be calm'd one takes in hand his Lute
To play a lesson, this man with a Flute
Gives a Leavet, another sings a song,
Of Cloris, and a fourth shewes the wrong
Of Philamela and her chance. But when
It came unto my turn. I took a Pen
With resolution for to dedicate
A Poem of our calme, and quiet state
Unto great Neptune but my Pen and hand,
Were stoped by the voice, and known command
Of our old Pylot, who a far of spies
A Gloomy Cloud, which did begin to rise
With pitchie colour, and anon doth cover,
The surface of the heavens black all over:
And now the winde which was before our friend
No sooner rose, but forthwith did contend,
Against the happiness which heretofore
We did enjoy, the Sea began to roare,
The clouds desolved into rain and we
Could nothing but our present danger see,
11
With lofty force far higher then the Mast,
The night came on, in which on shoar in peace
We use to rest, the tempest doth increase,
The moon doth hide her head as loath to be
A witness of our dismal tragiedy.
The master will not trust unto the helm
None but himself, for fear they overwhelm
The tottered bark; gives his commands at large
That every man stand fast unto his charge,
The horrour, and the darkness of the night,
Concuring with the danger doth affright
Our tired men; again he doth command,
Down with the sailes, be nimble now and stand
Unto your labour try the pump, and see
You lore the top mast, quickly let it be;
Now do we wish for day, which now we have,
Onely in use to light us to our grave,
For with the day the storm doth Augement
Which made us see our dangers eminent.
The helm is now no longer governed,
But by the Sea, the Pilot shakes his head
The glass doth cage, the compass standeth still
And knowes no North all signes of following ill,
The waves do carry us as if we should
Salute the clouds, and instantly it would
Throw us down headlong, leaving us to see
The dangers of the Seas Profundity;
Our rigging shatter'd and our sayles are torne
The naked mast looks like a man forlorne
Nothing but prayer is left, we all implore
The God of mercy for a happy shore;
12
His prayer is stoped by a cruell wave,
This man to heaven sends his dying cries,
Till fear had dryed the conduits of his eyes
A third weeps for his Children; and another
Cries for his Parents, Sister, and a Brother,
The fifth doth make a vow, if God doth send
Him safe to Land he nere more will offend,
Thus all were fearing, praying, vowing. I,
After my prayers did Amorea cry,
But still the Tempest doth stir up the Sea,
Again we labour and again we pray,
Then did we Sacrifice, unto the Main
Part of our loading but 'twas all in vain
For th' unapeased Sea fil'd all again,
Thus like a second Babell did we fleet.
Confounded in our language, skill and wit,
The master cal'd a loud and bid that man
To hale a rope, he takes the Quarter-Can
And thinkes to drink, but to prevent his care
In comes the Sea, and gives a double share
Unto us all, the Master bideth some
To shift the Ballest, they to Pump do come,
Another he commandeth for to shut
The hatches, he the Ruther-band did cut
Thus all confounded, every one betakes
Himself again to prayer, and each one makes
Him ready for his death, now hopes are past,
And every one doth fear he prayes his last,
But God whose mercy alwaies doth extend
Beyond his Judgments (mercy without end)
In sparing Sinners, when we thought to die
The storme abates, and we the land disery
13
Who makes the Land to be the Irish Coast,
Whose swelling Seas so boisterous, fearful, rude,
Do far exceed their Mountains Altitude,
A Coast but too well known for cruell wrack,
The Master calls again, commands the Tack
To be hal'd close Aboard, away he stears,
And in conclusion, (but not void of fears,)
We get our haven; where after prayers given
Unto the God of Earth, the Sea, and Heaven,
With bended knees, erected hands and eyes,
We offer prayers, praise, vows, heart-sacrifice;
We went ashore, where presently I sped
My self of paper, writ, what you have read.
Thus God to see where wee'le repent or no,
Hath sav'd our lives, Heavens grant we may do so.
Hath sav'd our lives, Heavens grant we may do so.
| Amorea, The Lost Lover | |