While death and darkness both surround,
And tempests rage with lawless power,
Of friendship's voice I hear no sound,
No comfort in this dreadful hour—
What friendship can in tempests be,
What comfort on this raging sea?
The barque, accustomed to obey,
No more the trembling pilots guide:
Alone she gropes her trackless way,
While mountains burst on either side—
Thus, skill and science both must fall;
And ruin is the lot of all.
[A] Near the east end of Jamaica, July 30, 1784.—Freneau's note.
[277] First published in the April 13, 1785, issue of the Freeman's Journal, under the title, "Verses, made at Sea, in a Heavy Gale," and reprinted verbatim in the 1786 edition. In the August 20, 1788, issue of the Journal the poem was republished in connection with the following note (in italics): "In that violent hurricane at Jamaica, on the night of the 30th of July, 1784, in which, no more than eight, out of 150 sail of vessels, in the ports of Kingston and Port-Royal, were saved, capt. Freneau was at sea, and arrived at Kingston next morning, a mere wreck. On that occasion, the following beautiful lines, extracted from the first volume of his writings, were penned." Text from the edition of 1809.
TO THE KEEPER OF THE KING'S WATER WORKS[278]
Near Kingston,[279] in the island of Jamaica, on being refused a puncheon of water
Written August, 1784
"The celestial Deities protect and relieve strangers in every country, as long as those strangers respect and submit to the laws of the country."