A Description of a Great Sea-Storm,
That happened to some Ships in the Gulph of FLORIDA, in September last; Drawn up by one of the
Company, and sent to his Friend at London.
THE PREFACE.
THe blustring Winds are husht into a Calme;
No Air stirs now, but what my Muse Embalmd,
Breaths forth to thee, dear Friend; Heaven smiles upon
My Paper, and the Sea turnes Helicon;
The Mermaids Muses all, the Sea-Nymphs, bring
Aid to my Genius, whilst to thee I Sing
Of Storms, Gusts, Tempests, if compard to these,
Bermoodus Winds are but a Gentle Breez;
And to express them fully, I [am] faine
To raise in Verse a kind of Hurrycane.
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NOthing but Air and Water is in sight;
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(I am no Poet here, since Truth I wright.)
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When Eolus with his Iron whistle Rouzes
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The blustring breathings from their Airy houses,
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Which like to Libertines let loose, will know
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No Law to guide them, but begin to blow
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The Sea to swell her teaming Womb, brings forth
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Wave after wave, and each of greater birth:
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Waves grow to Surges, Surges Billowes turn;
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The Ocean is all Timpany, the Urn
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Of water is a brimmer; Neptune drinks
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So full a Cup it over-runs the brinks.
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To Amphetrites Health, the proud waves dash
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At Heaven as though its Cloudy Face twould wash:
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Or sure the lower Water now was bent
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To mix with that above the Firmament;
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Or the cold Element did go about
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To put the Element of Fire out.
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Our Ship now under water seems to sayle
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Like to a drowned Tost in John Cooks Ale.
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The Sea rould up in Mountains: O! tis such
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Your Cottsall-Hills a Wart, ift be so much,
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Which fall again into such hollow Vales
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I thought Ide crost the Sea by Land ore Wales;
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And then to add Confusion to the Seas,
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The Saylers speak such Babel words as these:
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Hale in maine Bowlin, Mizen tack aboard;
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A Language, like a Storm, to be abhorrd:
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I know not which was loudest, their rude Tongues,
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Or the Bigg Winds with her whole Cards of Lungs.
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So hideous was the Noise, that one might well
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Fancy himself to be with Souls in Hell;
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But that the Torments differ, those Souls are
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With Fire punisht, we with Water here.
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Our Helme that should our Swimming-Colledge sway,
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We lasht it up, lest it should run away.
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Have you a Hedge seen hung with Beggars Fleeces?
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So hung our tattered Mainsaile down in pieces.
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Our Tackling crackt as if it had been made
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To string some Fiddle, not the Sea-mans Trade.
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Whilst her own Knell the Sea-sick Vessel Rings,
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In breaking of her Ropes, the Ships Heart-strings,
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As to repent, but never to amend;
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So we pumpt th Ship, even to as little end;
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For all the water we pumpt out with pain,
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The Sea returns with scorne, and more again.
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The Guns we carryd to be our Defence,
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Heaven thunderd so, it almost scard them thence;
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And yet to Heaven for this give thanks we may,
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But for its Lightning we had had no Day.
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The dropy Clouds drinking Salt water sick,
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Did spew it down upon our Heads so thick;
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That twixt the lowr and upper Seas that fell,
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Our Ship a Vessel seemd, and we Mackrell.
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Pickld in Brine, and in our Cabines lye
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Soust up for Lasting Immortality.
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The Fear of being drowned, made us wish
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Our selves transpeciated into Fish.
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Indeed this Fear did so possess each one,
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All lookt like Shotten-Herring, or Poor-John:
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Nay of our Saving, there was so much doubt,
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The Masters Faith begun to tack about;
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And had he perisht in this doubtful Fit,
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His Conscience sure (with his own Ship) had split.
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For which way into Heaven could his Soul Steer,
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Starboard or Larbord that still cries, No neer?
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But we were in great Danger, you will say,
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If Sea-men once begin to Kneele, and Pray;
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What Holy Church nere could, Rough Seas have done,
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Made Sea-men buckle to Devotion,
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And force from them their Letany, whilst thus
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They whimper out, Good Lord deliver us!
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So pray I too, good Lord deliver thee,
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Dear Friend, from being taught to Pray at Sea.
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Be wise, and keep the Shoar then, since you may
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Go in by Land to your VIRGINIA.
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