THE Dismall Day, at the Black-Fryers.
Or, A deplorable Elegie, on the death of almost an Hundred Persons, who were lamentably slaine by the fall of a House in the Blacke-Fryers, being all assembled there (after the manner of their Deuotions) to heare a Sermon on Sunday-Night, the 26. of October last past. An. 1623.
FRom the vast Chaos of distempre'd Mindes
My Muse doth flutter forth her moystned wings,
Vpheld with Gusts and Gales of sighing windes,
In this sad * Swan-like Elegie she sings,
For inbred griefes her heart so neerly stings,
That from thee (gentle Reader) we must borrow
Some Teares of pitty in such Threanes of sorrow.
Oh graue Melpomine assist my Pen,
Whilst I in dolefull manner doe recite
The heauy death of neere an hundred men,
Whose Tragicke ends my Soule doth much affright,
With fearfull horror of that dismall Night.
Ah, Fatall Vesper; whose like hath not beene
Since the Sicilian Vespers euer seene.
Though Gods great Mercies, (which so boundlesse are
And infinite) his other workes transcend,
Where he might strike he oftentimes doth spare,
In expectation when we should amend;
(Yea, though we daily, hourely, doe offend)
Yet are his iudgements likewise iust and true,
To giue to Sinners their deserued due.
Such is the might of our All-powerfull God,
That those which dare his Greatnesse to resist,
Shall feele his furious scourge and Iron Rod,
His wrath can ouertake them when he list,
At whose Commands the Winds and Seas are whist.
Let Christians all that his dread voyce shall heare,
Serue him in faithfull heart and trembling feare.
View here a Spectacle of mournfull ruth,
Which (for our crimes) the Lord hath lately sent,
London can witnesse well it was a Truth,
A strange, vntimely, fearfull Accident,
Which well may make a stony heart relent;
In the Black-Fryers, (blacke disasterous fate!)
A heauy wofull Story to relate.
That Sunday Night, led by their deepe Deuotions,
Three hundred Persons were assembled there,
Of diuers Sects, sundry Degrees and Nations,
Some English, Scottish, Welch, and Irish were,
Prepar'd (it seemes) a Sermon for to heare,
Which there a Iesuite was to solemnize,
One Drury fitted to that Exercise.
And hauing Crost himselfe in publike view,
He enters straight the Chayre and Preaching-place,
The people yeeld him reuerence, as was due,
And to his Sermon numbers flock'd apace,
He being (with them) a Man of chiefest grace;
Who there his Text did open and vnfold,
Shewing such doctrines as their Church did hold.
Thus while he Preacht, deliuering forth at large
Such Points of strange Beliefe as they are taught,
The Peoples waight the Chamber did surcharge,
Which breaking downe their sad Confusion wrought
When of this Accident they neuer thought:
The Chamber full three Stories from the ground,
Which brast in sunder with a hideous sound.
And when the vpper Floore that first did breake,
Fals on the second, where they hop't to stay;
Yet on the sudden ere a man could speake,
They on the ground all bruiz'd and smothered lay,
Some stifled vp with Lome, Stones, Dust, and Clay:
And some for helpe and succour loudly calling,
All broken, bruizd, and mangled in their falling.
The Husband cries out, Oh my louing wife,
The Wife cries out, Oh saue my Husband deare,
The Father cries, Would I had lost my life,
His Childrens woes doe touch his heart so neare,
All things so rufull, dreadfull, doe appeare:
Thus Tyrant death with his all-peircing dart,
Acts many a fatall Scoene, and bloudy part.
The Brother bids the Sister quite adue,
The Sister cries, Farewell my louing Brother,
The Infants losse doth make the mother rue,
The Child cries out, Oh where's my carefull Mother?
All these (alas) stones, lyme, and timber smother.
Yea many there which on their friends had gazed,
Yet knew them not, they were so much amazed.
The Seruant cries, Oh I haue lost my Master,
The Master for his Seruant doth complaine,
The faithfull Friend laments his Friends disaster,
Wishing that for his sake himselfe were slaine:
Thus teares gush out on euery side amaine.
Some swound with feare, vnable for to speake,
Which might a Christians heart with sorrow break.
Thus some were buried vp aliue in dust,
Some mangled, bruized, wounded with the fall,
Some brain'd with Timber, some in pieces crusht,
Of those that scap'd the number was but small;
A fearfull Doome and Summons to vs All:
Calling vs to repentance many wayes,
Considering well the shortnesse of our dayes.
O Lord defend thy Church and Common-weale,
Maintaine thy Gospell free in this our Land,
And since to vs thy Truth thou dost reueale,
In zeale vnto it let vs euer stand:
Protect our King still from his Enemies hand:
And when we must resigne our vitall breath,
Saue vs (O Lord) from strange and sudden Death.
Math. Rhodes.
FINIS.