Classic and Contemporary Poetry
LONDON SURVEYED AND ILLUSTRATED, by JOHANNEM ADAMUS First Line: What dire calamities have enforced me Last Line: Of londons trophies and our time and tense. Subject(s): London Fire (1666); Great Fire Of 1666 | ||||||||
What dire calamities have enforced me Dear Transylvania, from thy Brest to flee Who gavest me suck; and in whose lap I sate Secure possessed with a good Estate? O Land of unknown plenty! Where the Vine Spreads forth her Branches and affords us Wine More luscious then Nepenthe; where our Fruit With Corn and Cattel vied; before the bruit Of Warr was heard, and the insulting lust Of Mahomet had laid us in the Dust. Witness fair Alba-Julia, whose Eyes Like studded Starrs enamelling the Skies (Made her great Kings, and Emperours delight) Sit now Ecclipsed in eternal night. Henceforth (dear friends) we are constrain'd to fly And seek for what our Own Home doth deny. To thy safe armes London we are hurld London the great Emporeum of the world, Whose benigne Souls [sic] still ready is to bless And succour strangers in their most distress. Fame of thy Beauty, and great Bounty too Extended to such Exile strangers, who Profess the same Religion, which combin'd With thy most liberal kindness, hath enclin'd Me to believe blest England doth alone Comprize the blessings of the spacious Zone: England the fertile Mother of brave men, Gemme of fair Europe! and more noble then Thy sister Isles; O may Heavens Sun still shine On thee the Granary of the world, and Mine Of golden Oare! Indulger of just truth And known Integrity! Whose vernal youth Rains down sweet blessings in abundant showers Exuberant as well in Fruits as Flowers. Henceforth Rome nor Jerusalem shall be With Libanus wealth, of such esteem with me; Nor Spain, nor yet those Indies which do boast And pay that boasted Tribute to her Coast: Nor sweet Arabia's Gumms shall henceforth dare With thy perfumes fair London to compare. London to me more glorious then the wide Frame of the world; who to me well ey'd, Dost strike astonishment. How shall I then Begin to speak of thee proud Pile? Or when Shall I conclude? blest Muse goe thou before And as my harbinger op'e every doore To my design; shew me most ignorant, all The pomp and glories of each Court and Hall; And as well Houses which in vallyes lie As Pallaces whose Turrets touch the Skie. This is that place (if mine eyes doe not erre) Where Britans King resides not farr from her High streets; which City raigneth Soveraigne Queen Of this great Realme; whose proud port and Meen Rome must submit. This is great Troynovant Built by the Peers of Troy which thence may vaunt And challenge her descent; old Priams sons Whose facts fill chronicles, with those Trojan Donnes New risen from their graves doe all agree To live, and Re-derive themselves from thee. So sang the British Bards in dayes of Yore; But now shee's chang'd from what she was before, More glorious in her habit, port, and hue; Old Troy some Centuries since, is now turn'd new. Live happy Citty, live! So often woo'd By me some lusters since, and now renew'd, As much admir'd: Thy Churches, Towers, and Streets Ravish our Eyes; Here great Astrea meets In thy Tribunals, who art Head, Heart, Eye, Of the whole Earth, and wonder of the Skie. Now banish't I, behold thee as I pass, Storehouse of men, and armes; who hast a Mass Of wealth to-boot (and what doth more improve Thy fame) the seat of Charity and Love. Thy Reputation, fame, and stately port Made me more willing to behold thy Court, Heaven being my guide. Thine Aquoeducts, and founts Are things of weight, and worth, and our accompts Can't calculate great City each degree Or part of Honour which belongs to thee. Thy Conduits, Streams, and Cisterns being so great, What shall I speak of that illustrious Seat Fair Gresham Colledge, for some while repleat With shops and men till Gresham's other frame Fitted, shall reinvite them to the same. What shall I say of Sion-Colledge, which Like a great wealthy store-house doth enrich The minds of men, where all the liberal arts Concenter here divided into parts. Whilst Aristotle doth possesse the chaire, Philosophers with Physicians doe repaire To drink down the distilled dew and hast Here when most hungry to get some repast. But here Theologie doth beare the sway, And the divines have th' honor of the day: Theologie which doth sound documents give, Both to the good and bad men how to live. Yea sacred Nymphs, infuse in me new fire, Retune my tongue, and teach me to admire, And in that admiration to proclaime Those triumphs due to Londons ample frame. Wondring at such variety of things, My mind was taken captive, and her wings Were imp't, not suffering her for to ascend Those heights to which this stately pile doth tend. Yet here I view no walls, or banks, t' amate Th' insulting foe; no Towers for strength, or state Inviron London; her's no Rock, nor shelf, Londons a mighty Bulwark of her self. So Lacedoemon did her self make good, Her safety scorning walls of stone or mud; Your works of Piety worthy Citizens Do more immure you then your walls or pens Which do inviron other Towns; 'tis known You need no external aids safe in your own. Thames is your Rampier. Thames which doth inviron One side more safely then strong barrs of Iron. Blest City whose commodious and sweet site Invites the Eye to wonder, and delight; Thou being cram'd with blessings in such store, That Heaven could not well give, or Earth ask more. Oh! With what splendor, and prodigious state Doth she the Eyes invite! and yet amate Them, dazled with her luster, where the port Of every brave built house doth seem a Court. I don't admire Amphions Pallaces Nor Cadmus Towers, nor such lies as these Which bragging Greece obtrudes, since I dare say Quirinus liv'd not in so fine and gay Structures, as now this City here and there Presents the Eye, and suggests to the Ear. Tell me brave Citizens, and let th' whole Earth Admire the freshness of her late new birth. Fair Troynovant! the glory of this Isle! All things being rich, and nothing mean, or vile. And what the Marble wants, Brick doth advance To paint thee of a Ruddy Countenance: That when thou art quite finisht thou shalt reign Empress of Realms and sit sole Soveraign Without a Rival; thy proud scituation For strength and state ingaging every nation To pay thee tribute; Poets too in dayes To come hereafter, will proclaim thy Praise. The staring stranger, and the stander by Will gaze, and turn all senses to its Eye, And with a liberal voice now bid adieu To brave Old Troy, and welcome in the New. As when the Phoenix putting off old fate (Beyond the mighty River of Euphrate) Puts on fresh years, the Birds on every side Flock to behold the Beauties of their Bride, Who propagates her self, her Midwife womb Being at once her Cradle, and her Tomb. Whilst she in Feathers glittering like Gold, Array'd in new Robes, doth resign the old Raggs of mortality, which once were worne, But now cast off as useless, and forlorne. So this unpattern'd Soveraign, whose site And state are all mens wonder and delight Inthroned sitting, hear's the minstril throngs Of Bards and Poets, praising her in Songs. What works do I see here? What immense Barrs, And Engins fit as well for Peace as Warrs? Not farr from hence the lofty Ships do stand, The props, and watery Bulwarks of this Land; With Oares, and Scullers, Masts, and many a Boat Beyond the Rules of Number, or my Noat. Hence, passing farther I contemplate Towers Almost as high as Heaven; whose Guns in Showres Of Iron-shot, command both farr and near. Not farr from which stands a Renowned Pier O're which the Noble Tower exalts her high Turrets, which are near Neighbours to the Skie: I'the midst of which great London's land-mark lifts Her Head above the opposite Hills and Clifts. She stands four-square; and yet doth seem but one Compacted piece hewn out of solid stone, Made by the Latian Lords, before the birth Of Christ did bring Salvation to Earth; A structure so antique, we must forbear To nominare the time, or quote the Year. They say that Julius Coesar the first Head And Emperour of Rome, (whose fame doth spread Throughout the world) when He was in this Isle Laid the foundation of this stately Pile: Here to delight himself in the soft charms Of the nine Sisters, he put off his Arms; And thus retir'd could accompt how farr Each day he had proceeded in the Warr. Here he compil'd his commentaries who Was a great Scholar, and a Conquerour too. He was his own Fames Champion, and in spight Of Fate will live, and be preserv'd to light Of future ages. Here great Caesars Tower (A Noble structure of both might and power) Stands like some stately Pharoahs, whose chief end Is even as much to threaten, as defend. What shall I mention her Magnifique walls, Round which stand Iron Guns, with equal Balls, With their Artillery. O Nation firme In Feats of warr, nor yet in Peace Inerme. O Nation! faithful to thy Kings; for whom Thou ne're didst fear to meet thy direst doom. Ransack all Histories, and Angles too, And tell me truly what e're Rome did do Great, without English Aids, who still did stand Firme to the Romans, when they did command, In Parthia, or Illyria, or in quest If of the spoils of Affrick, or the East, The British Legions still the Camp supply'd, Having been long so exercis'd, and try'd; In eminent dangers resolute, and bold, Apt to endure Hunger, heat, or Cold. And scorning in the greatest pinch to flie, Whose Motto was to Conquer, or to die. Rome by these Aids, (whose City stood on seaven Proud Hills) did raise her name as high as Heaven, And still successful whereso'er she came Made her Dominions ample as her Fame. But I digress, and on the Eastern side I spie a place once of great note, and pride. Where Constantine the great did raise a Pile, Which in the dayes of yore retain'd the stile And impress of his name, 'till bigg, and bold Buildings more new, quite justled out of old; And swelling Thames too swallowing up a good Part, left no sign, where that old structure stood. Blest Constantine! The darling and the love Of Mankind! dear to Earth, and Heaven above; To whom thy Britain owes her self as farr, As Rome to her Augustus; or in warr Great Lacedoemon to Lycurgus; who Was her first Light, and Legislator too. Thus in my progress whilst I do advance My tired steps, I seemed in a trance To view Artificers in such a long Series of Shops so huddle in a throng. Here knocks the Joyner; there the Blacksmith beats The batterd Anvil, and with labour sweats Clothing the stubborn steel, and rusty blade VVith a brighter habit then before they had. On the other hand Artificers do sit Who get their living by their hand, and wit. These are the Clothiers, and the Dyers who Teach th' innocent wool to put on every hue. Bakers, Cooks, Butchers too, with many more Tradesmen stand here, which I can't count, or score. In hope of gain here young men trace each street, And the grave matrons at the market meet And mindfull of the main, how to safe keep Their credits whole, do often break their sleep; And to this purpose in their Morning-Gown First in the house are up, and last, are down. Anxious and careful to inhaunce their store And make Provisions for their Young, and Poor: Much like some Clucking Hen which in great hoe For her small Chicken wanders too and froe; Searching the Yard, the Stable and Barn-doors, And here and there pecks Corn from the flowers, Which to her little Brood she gladly brings Fed first, then fosterd under her warm wings. Thrice happy London in thy pleasant seat Who art with bliss redundantly repleat. How should I praise thee then? VVhose beauties are Beyond my Pen, or mortal mans compare. How shall I praise thy structures, or discrie Thy Leaden-Hall old Londons Granarie? Or thy renowned Guild-Hall? Where the Law Well executed keeps bad men in awe. Here Justice like a Queen inthron'd doth sit To whom for love all good men do submit, The Bad for fear; for regent wisdom here Sitteth possest, in her own Orb, and Spheare. The other Halls perhaps I may compile Hereafter if my Patrons shall but smile On these my labours; I shall then proclaim With a more vocal Trump the mighty frame Of the Exchange, which the proud Monument stands Of noble Gresham, and the Mercers hands. Then shall I speak of Paul's; and Englands best Cathedral great St. Peter's in the West. With brave White-Hal the Pallace of Great Kings, And the Inns of Court, and Chancery; with such things As may comport with the magnificence Of Londons Trophies and our time and tense. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LONDON SECOND TEARS by JOHN CROUCH LONDONS NONSUCH; OR, THE GLORY OF THE ROYAL EXCHANGE by HENRY DUKE GREAT BRITTAINS BEAUTY; OR, LONDON'S DELIGHT by GEORGE ELIOTT LONDONS RESURRECTION by SIMON FORD THE CONFLAGRATION OF LONDON, POETICAL DELINEATED by SIMON FORD ENGLAND'S PASSING BELL by THOMAS GILBERT (1613-1694) THE DREADFUL BURNING OF LONDON by JOSEPH GUILLIM SEASONABLE THOUGHTS IN SAD TIMES by JOHN TABOR SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 6 by CONRAD AIKEN |
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