LINES ON HEARING, THREE OR FOUR YEARS AGO, THAT CONSTANTINOPLE WAS SWALLOWED UP BY AN EARTHQUAKE; Amelia Opie (née Alderson) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Opie, Amelia Alderson, 1769-1853. The Warrior's Return, and Other Poems. By Mrs. Opie. 2d. ed. London Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, Paternoster-row 1808 pp. [163]-172.

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LINES ON HEARING , THREE OR FOUR YEARS AGO , THAT CONSTANTINOPLE WAS SWALLOWED UP BY AN EARTHQUAKE ;

A Report , though false , at that time generally believed .

FALLEN are thy towers , Byzantium ! towers that stood Before the Turk's dread fury , when he came , The crescent sparkling amidst Christian blood , And to the reeking den of Moloch turned Sophia's holy fane ! Where , where are now , Imperial city , the late proud remains Of thy brave founder's greatness , when he clothed In worldly grandeur pure Religion's form ; Then placed beside him , placed upon a throne , The lowly Nazarene's meek simple child ! .... He , wandering then upon a Christian land , Stranger at home had been , nor known again His artless rites , his followers , in the domes Filled with the sparkling shrine , the rich-robed priests , And pomp of earthly greatness ........ But not long Lived there his name .... Science and art , farewell ! The foe of light and love , Mohammed , comes , And Constantine's proud race exists no more . But , sons of Mahomet , the towers he built , Though by your anger spared , have fallen now , And crushed your bloody race ! A mightier arm Than his who raised , or spared , yon domes came forth ; From the hot sable rolling cloud it came , And crumbled them to dust ! .... The wind , the air , Seem in strict silence bound , but smiling still Appears the face of day ; assassin-like , Smiling , though conscious of intended death . But Nature trembles at her own repose ; The brute creation dread forebodings shake ; While man alone is bold ..... But see where now The labouring ocean , in fantastic shapes And sudden swells , her heaving bosom rears ; Like the mad Pythia , when the Delphian god Spoke by her fraudful lips .... But here , alas ! A real God that world of waters moves To do his dreadful bidding ! .... Hark ! he comes ! The thunder's roar , the rush of winds proclaim The Mighty One is near .... But oh ! when past His power , and those he spared raised up their heads , Where was the eye could bear upon the waste To gaze , and mark the ruin stretching wide ! Oh ! ye were blest , ye victims , ye who fell Deep in the yawning chasm ! .... " Where are now , " The sad survivor cries , " my peaceful home , The sacred mosque I loved , the child , the wife I clasped but now ; the city towering high , Proud in its strength ? .... Disperse , thou gloomy cloud , And let me gaze on them ! " The cloud's dispersed ; But he beholds no city , he can trace No vestige of his home : a putrid lake Or barren ground replace them , and proclaim , Devouring earthquake , thy resistless power . ENGLAND ! blest country , from such woes as these Thy temperate clime preserves thee ; lightly felt , If ever , by thy comfort-breathing shores , The earthquake desolating distant lands : And .... thou hast cause to lift thy voice most high , In the great choir of nations hymning praise . But ye , who wander from your native shores , While haply such calamity draws near As sunk Byzantium ; ye , whose eager hearts Anticipate a glad return to scenes Ye shall behold no more , for ever swept From off the earth , unconscious heirs of woe ; For you I mourn ! .... Methinks I see the cheek Flushed with delight , chastized perhaps by fear , When your own land approaches .... See the eye Misty with tears ope wide its eager lid To catch the well-known objects ! Horrid change ! Fear pales that glowing cheek , and dries that eye , " It is our native shore , .... but where are gone The fanes , the spires , erewhile our city's pride ? " I hear you cry . " The pilot is deceived , And hope deceived us too .... 'Tis not our land ! " But soon the mournful certainty ye guess , And leap to shore ; and there ye call in vain On all ye loved .... Throughout the silent streets That yet remain , perhaps some meagre form May trembling steal along , and tell the tale ; While on the ruins some lone maniac sits , And , as he points to where the chasm yawned , Boasts of the treasures earth preserves for him ; Or , while a sudden beam of reason darts , Screams his discordant anguish , and commands Earth to give back his children ! .... Angel of woe , that from the eternal hand Receivest thy dread commission , going forth To flap thy sable pinions o'er the world , And shed unnumbered evils , which appear To piety's uplifted eye as good Concealed in evil's garb ; .... angel of woe , Upon thy awful power I've pondered oft , In all its dark varieties , I've sought The horrid path where Madness stalks along In fancied majesty , or from his cell Sends the loud shriek , or more afflicting laugh ; And , as I hurried from the o'erwhelming scene , Have shuddering owned thy awful presence there , .... I've seen thee by the death-bed sit , and bid The silent corse to speak again , and urge The eyes for ever closed to ope once more And beam as they were wont : .... and I have walked In slow procession to the opening grave , And seen thee triumph when the earth received The form beloved , and the deep bursting groan Bespoke affliction's forced composure o'er , And agony victorious ! I have gazed Upon the guilty wretch , when , doomed to die , Terror has vanquished him , and his pale cheek Has proved the falsehood of his vaunting tongue , While , to his startled fancy , in the rear Of Death came judgement , and the world to come Unfolded all its horrors ! There , O there , Thee I beheld , and fled from ! .... and I've heard How on the sultry suffocating breath Of livid pestilence , thou , floating wide , Hast done thy master's bidding ! Vain were then The ties of nature ! from the parent's grasp The child has forced its once sustaining hand , And , horror-struck , has from contagion fled ! While the fond parent , from his dying child Vainly his aid imploring , terror-winged , Has urged his selfish flight It is said that scenes like this were only too frequent in America , when the yellow fever first raged there . ! And there thou wert .... But when the earthquake's varied horrors come , All , all thy ministers are waiting round , Fear , Madness , Pestilence , Pain , Famine , Death , And all the AGONIES COMBINED are there !