L O N D O N,
Printed, and are to be sold by R. Baldwin, near the
Oxford-Arms in Warwick-lane, 1692.
THE
Earthquake of Jamaica
Describ'd in a POEM.
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 ancient Mother Earth,
Who gave us all untimely Birth,
Such strong Hysterick Passion feels;
If Orbs are from their Axles torn,
And Mountains into Valleys worn,
All in a moments 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're scorching Mountains, and o're 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 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 Mans 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
Large Pines and Oaks does Lop,
And in a Whirlwind lays 'em upon Oeta's Top.
E're this vast Orb shall unto Chaos turn,
And with Consuming Flames shall burn,
An Angel Trumpeter shall come,
Whose Noise shall shake the Massie 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.