A poem on the earthquake at Lisbon

by John‏ Biddolf

From every Port there Merchants flock’d for Wealth,
Poor pining Patients thither flew for Health:
In vain the Lungs decay’d their Tone resume;
In vain the Cheek regains it’s faded Bloom. 140
Of what Avail are now those wholesome Skies?
For what its Air restor’d, its Earth destroys;
And those whom for another Fate prepar’d,
The short Catarrh and wheezing Asthma spar’d:
Like fatted Victims drest with Garlands gay, 145
The general Consumption sweeps away.

But let it not be thought, their horrid Deeds
Had pull’d this dreadful Judgment on their Heads;
Or that for Crimes too horrible to tell,
Like guilty Sodom Thunderstruck they fell; 150
Or like presumptuous Dathan: Other Climes
Afford as frequent and as flagrant Crimes.
But when o’er all Degeneracy prevails,
And on the Minds grown callous Precept fails;
Where only the least vicious are the best, 155
Some must be made Examples to the rest.
The Chance was their’s——but why to them ’twas giv’n,
Remains among the Mysteries of Heav’n;
Which hides its Secrets from our erring Sense;
For Chance on Earth in Heav’n is Providence. 160

As when to some Frontier by slow Blockade,
And silent Sap, a sure Approach is made,
If skilful Miners can their Chamber set,
Under some Ravelin, Horn-work, or Lunette,
The starting Pile a loud Explosion tears, 165
And all aloof the shatter’d Fragments bears;
Stones, Arms, and blasted Guards together fly,
And scatter’d round in one great Ruin lie:
While those who neighbouring Bastions maintain,
With Grief behold their Fellow-Soldiers slain; 170
Conscious of equal Guilt, none e’er presum’d
To think for greater Crimes they first were doom’d;
But thankful that so long themselves are spar’d,
With double Vigilance they stand prepar’d.——

So may the World——For now by dreadful Bands, 175
Lo the wide Universe invested stands!
Winds, Flames, and Sulphur in her Bowels lurk,
And in her hidden Chambers secret work.
In this great Siege the Crown-works and Lunettes
Are spacious Provinces and wealthy States; 180
Mountains her Curtains, Seas her Ditches are,
And mighty Kingdoms are the Bastions there:
And lo! where springs the Mine! the Mine of Fate!
And in wide rushing Ruins whelms a State!

Let none here deem this bold poetic Strain, 185
A wild unreal Fiction of the Brain.
Who can with curious Eye this Globe survey,
And not behold it tott’ring with Decay;
All Things created God’s Designs fulfill,
And nat’ral Causes work his destin’d Will. 190
And that eternal Word which cannot lie,
To Mortals hath reveal’d in Prophecy,
That in these latter Days such Signs should come,
Preludes and Prologues to the gen’ral Doom.
But not the Son of Man can tell that Day; 195
Then, left it find you sleeping, watch and pray!

Ye silent Tenants of the dreary Deep,
Whom rocking Nature lull’d to your last Sleep,
And all the while rung out your passing Bell,
Amidst the Ruins, tolling as it fell. 200
Ye who from Earth so hastily withdrew,
That in your Deaths ye found your Burials too.
Whom yet your Friends attended to your Grave,
While flaming Piles instead of Torches wave.
Dark Caves your State instead of sable Rooms. 205
And nodding Tow’rs instead of nodding Plumes.—

Yet shall the Muses dress with Flowers your Bier,
And o’er your Grave a Monument shall rear,
Bearing the mournful Tale to after Age.
Lo where in AEtna’s Womb the Grecian Sage, 210
Plunging a voluntary Death endures,
And seeks a Fate to find a Fame like yours;
But more than AEtna’s Flames your Relicts burn,
Your Pile’s a Continent, a Realm your Urn.
And see, a weeping World in solemn State, 215
Sad, silent following mourns your hapless Fate!

Now the too deeply plough’d and furrow’d Earth
No Harvest yields, but feels a sudden Dearth;
Like Canaan blasted sinks beneath her Woes,
And now no more with Milk and Honey flows. 220
When lo, Britannia stretching forth her Hand,
With kind Supply relieves the famish’d Land.
Long may the sacred Gold those Temples bind,
Where Pharaoh’s Power is us’d with Joseph’s Mind!
His Brethren their great Preserver bless, 225
(To good Minds all are Brethren in Distress)
And while they feast upon the welcome Gains,
In each Man’s Sack the Price untouch’d remains.

Oh Ground and Source of ev’ry social Tye!
Soft soothing Balm of Grief, and Soul of Joy! 230
Fair Charity, thou Bond ’twixt Great and Small,
Bright universal Medium joining all!
Strong Chain that ties the Cottage to the Throne,
Still rising till it links the Three in One;
By thee, while yet on Earth thy Foot remains, 235
Ascending Angels mount the Ætherial Plains.
By thee inspir’d our good Samaritan,
(Great in the Monarch, greater in the Man!)
A helpless People robb’d and bleeding sound,
Pour’d out thy sacred Oil, and heal’d their Wound. 240

And when, on op’ning of the Sixth great Seal,
With her last Earthquake this round World shall reel,
The Sun shall lose his Fires in endless Night,
And the Moon turn’d to Blood glare horrid Light,
When Comets dire shall sweep athwart the Sky, 245
And Stars like Leaves before the Tempest fly;
When fervent Heat the Elements shall burn,
And like a Furnace Earth to Ashes turn,
And all the Heavens in that dreadful Day,
Like to a Scroll roll’d up shall pass away—— 250
When the Seventh Angel his last Trump shall found,
And those whom God hath seal’d in Myriad’s Round,
Shall raise to Heav’n the universal Song,
And Brunswick ’mong the foremost of the Throng,
In Garments white array’d shall bend the Knee, 255
And bow before the Throne——Then Charity,
Thou in his heav’nly Crown a Place shall bear,
And sparkle in the Front the brightest Jewel there.