the very fire touched them, and then running into boats, or clambering from one pair of stairs by the water-side to another. And among other things, the poor pigeons, I perceive, were loth to leave their houses, but hovered about the windows and balconys, till they burned their wings and fell down. Having staid, and in an hour's time seen the fire rage every way, and nobody, to my sight, endeavouring to quench it, but to remove their goods, 10 and leave all to the fire, and having seen it get as far as the Steele-yard, and the wind mighty high, and driving it into the city; and everything after so long a drouth proving combustible, even the very stones of churches, and among 15 were almost burned with a shower of fire tracted, and no manner of means used to quench the fire. The houses too so very thick thereabouts, and full of matter for burning, as pitch and tar, in Thames-strect: and warehouses 5 of oil, and wines, and brandy, and other things. . . Having seen as much as I could now, I away to White Hall by appointment, and there walked to St. James' Park, and there met my wife and Creed and Wood and his wife, and walked to my boat; and there upon the water again, and to the fire up and down, it still encreasing, and the wind great. So near the fire as we could for smoke; and all over the Thames, with one's faces in the wind, you other things, the poor steeple by which pretty Mrs.- lives, and whereof my old schoolfellow Elborough is parson, taken fire in the very top, and there burned till it fell down: drops. This is very true; so as houses were burned by these drops and flakes of fire, three or four, nay five or six houses, one from another. When we could endure no more fire as only one entire arch of fire from this to the other side the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile long; it made me weep to see it. The churches, houses, and I to White Hall (with a gentleman with me, 20 upon the water, we to a little ale-house on who desired to go off from the Tower, to see the the Bankside, over against the Three Cranes, fire, in my boat); and there up to the King's and there staid till it was dark almost, and closet in the Chapel, where people come about saw the fire grow, and as it grew darker, me; and I did give them an account dismayed appeared more and more, and in corners and them all, and word was carried in to the King. 25 upon steeples, and between churches and So I was called for, and did tell the King and houses, as far as we could see up the hill of the Duke of York what I saw, and that unless the city, in a most horrid malicious bloody his Majesty did command houses to be pulled flame, not like the fine flame of an ordinary down, nothing could stop the fire. They fire. Barbary and her husband away before seemed much troubled, and the King com- 30 us. We staid till, it being darkish, we saw the manded me to go to my Lord Mayor from him, and command him to spare no houses, but to pull down before the fire every way. The Duke of York bid me tell him, that if he would have any more soldiers, he shall; and so did my 35 all on fire, and flaming at once, and a horrid Lord Arlington afterwards, as a great secret. Here meeting with Captain Cocke, I in his coach, which he lent me, and Creed with me to Paul's, and there walked along Watling-street, as well as I could, every creature coming away 40 loaden with goods to save, and here and there sick people carried away in beds. Extraordinary good goods carried in carts and on backs. At last met by Lord Mayor in Canningstreet, like a man spent, with a handkercher 45 and stating my accounts, in order to the fitting about his neck. To the King's message, he cried like a fainting woman, "Lord! what can I do? I am spent: people will not obey me. I have been pulling down houses; but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it." That 50 troublesome to my mind to do it: but I this noise the flames made, and the cracking of houses at their ruin. So home with a sad heart, and there find everybody discoursing and lamenting the fire! THE LAST ENTRY IN PEPYS' DIARY 31st. Up very betimes, and continued all the morning with W. Hewer, upon examining myself to go abroad beyond sea, which the ill condition of my eyes and my neglect for a year or two hath kept me behind-hand in, and so as to render it very difficult now and day made a satisfactory entrance therein. Had another meeting with the Duke of York at White Hall on yesterday's work, and made a good advance: and so being called by my 55 wife, we to the Park, Mary Batelier, and a Dutch gentleman, a friend of hers, being with us. Thence to "The World's End," a drinkingOn the southern, or Surrey side of the river. 1 May 31st, 1669. house by the Park; and there merry, and so home late. And thus ends all that I doubt I shall ever be able to do with my own eyes in the keeping of my Journall, I being not able to do it any longer, having done now so long 5 as to undo my eyes almost every time that I take a pen in my hand; and therefore, what ever comes of it, I must forbear: and therefore resolve from this time forward to have it kept by my people in long-hand, and must be con- 10 tented to set down no more than is fit for them and all the world to know; or if there be anything, I must endeavour to keep a margin in my book open, to add here and there a note in short-hand with my own hand. And so I 15 betake myself to that course, which is almost as much as to see myself go into my grave; for which, and all the discomforts that will accompany my being blind, the God prepare me! S. P. THE AGE OF POPE Matthew Prior 1664-1721 20 The god of us verse-men (you know, Child) the sun, How after his journeys he sets up his rest; Then finish, dear Chloe, this pastoral war; 25 Jonathan Swift 1667-1745 IN SICKNESS (Written in Ireland in October, 1714) 'Tis true-then why should I repine To see my life so fast decline? But why obscurely here alone, Where I am neither loved nor known? Ye formal weepers for the sick, In your last offices be quick, And spare my absent friends the grief THE DAY OF JUDGMENT With a whirl of thought oppress'd, A horrid vision seiz'd my head, I saw the graves give up their dead! Jove, armed with terrors, bursts the skies, Joseph Addison 1672-1719 20 25 5 10 15 20 And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though, in solemn silence, all And utter forth a glorious voice, "The hand that made us is Divine." CATO'S SOLILOQUY (From Cato, 1713) 20 Cato. It must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well! Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, "Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man. Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! 10 Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes and changes must we pass! The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me; But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a power above us 15 (And that there is all nature cries aloud Through all her works), he must delight in virtue; 19 And that which he delights in must be happy. 25 Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life, My bane and antidote are both before me: This in a moment brings me to an end; But this informs me I shall never die. The soul, secured in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years, But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the war of elements, The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds. What means this heaviness that hangs upon me? 30 This lethargy that creeps through all my senses? Nature, oppressed and harassed out with care, Sinks down to rest. This once I'll favour her, 35 flow'rs; 34 Hear and believe! thy own importance know, Nor bound thy narrow views to things below. This poem was written at the request of a Mr. Caryl. One Lord Petre had contrived to abstract a lock of Mistress Arabella Fermor's hair, and as a result, the families of the daring lord and the offended beauty had become estranged. Mr. Caryl, anxious to restore peace, asked Pope to write a poem which should suggest to both sides the absurdity of quarreling over so trifling an affair. 2 The dressing at the court balls given to celebrate the birthdays of members of the royal family was unusually splendid. Some secret truths, from learned pride concealed, To maids alone and children are revealed. What though no credit doubting wits may give? 40 45 The fair and innocent shall still believe. That all her vanities at once are dead; 50 And though she plays no more, o'erlooks the cards. 55 Her joy in gilded chariots, when alive, 65 Through all the giddy circle they pursue, If gentle Damon did not squeeze ber hand? 101 Beaus banish beaus, and coaches coaches drive. 110 125 Each silver vase in mystic order laid. 130 135 Not with more glories, in th' ethereal plain, 5 10 But ev'ry eye was fixed on her alone. If to her share some female errors fall, 16 In equal curls, and well conspired to deck, 25 Th' advent'rous baron the bright locks admired; He saw, he wished, and to the prize aspired. 30 For this, ere Phoebus rose, he had implored 40 Then prostrate falls, and begs with ardent eyes 45 The rest, the winds dispersed in empty air. Th' impending woe sat heavy on his breast. 50 |