IDENTILIN$$  F109C08\Storm\Leconfield ms., Add. 8467\ff. 35v-37\GL\P:TLP;EWS\o\7-8-93;7-3-95\C:JSC\'95;11-17-00
109.C08.0HE  %XThe storme. To M:%5r%6 Christofer Brooke.
109.C08.001  Thou w%5ch%6 art I, (T'is nothing to be so)
109.C08.002  Thou which art still thy self, by theise shalt knowe
109.C08.003  Part of our passages, and a hand, or eye
109.C08.004  By Hiliard drawne, is worth an Historie,
109.C08.005  By a worse Painter made; And w%5th%6out pride
109.C08.006  When by thy iudgement thou art dignified.
109.C08.007  My lines are such. Tis the preheminence
109.C08.008  Of frendship onlie to impute excellence;
109.C08.009  England, to whome wee owe, what we bee and haue; 
109.C08.010  Sad that her sonns did seeke >%Va< forraine graue.
109.C08.011  (ffor fates, or ffortunes drifts, none can soothsay)
109.C08.012  Honnor and miserie haue one face and waye;
109.C08.013  From out her pregnant intralls, sighd' a wynde
109.C08.014  Which att the ayres middle marble roome did finde
109.C08.015  Such strong resistance; That itt self itt threwe
109.C08.016  Downward againe; And so, when itt did viewe [CW:How]
109.C08.109  How in the port, our fleet deere tyme did leese, [36]
109.C08.018  Withering like prisoners, w%5ch%6 lye butt for fees.
109.C08.019  Mildlie itt kist our sailes, and fresh and sweete
109.C08.020  As to a stomack steru'd, whose insydes meet,
109.C08.021  Meat comes, It came; And swole our sailes, when wee
109.C08.022  So ioy'd, as Sara hir swelling ioy'd to see.
109.C08.023  Butt twas, butt so kinde, as our Countriemen
109.C08.024  Which bring freinds one daies waye, and leaues them then.
109.C08.025  Then like twoe mightie Kings, w%5ch%6 dwelling farr
109.C08.026  A sunder, meet against a third to warr,
109.C08.027  The south, and West winds ioyn'd, And as they blewe
109.C08.028  Waues like a rolling trench, before them threwe.
109.C08.029  Sooner then you read this lyne, did the gale
109.C08.030  Like shott, not feard, till felt, our sailes assaile.
109.C08.031  And what att first, was call'd a gust, the same
109.C08.032  Hath now a storms, anon a Tempests name.
109.C08.033  Ionas, I pittie thee, and curse those men,
109.C08.034  Whoe when the storme ragde most, did wake thee then.
109.C08.035  Sleepe is paines easiest salue, and dooth fullfill
109.C08.036  All offices of death, except to kill.
109.C08.037  Butt when I wakt, I sawe, that I sawe not
109.C08.038  I, and the Sunne, w%5ch%6 should teach me, had forgott [CW:East.|]
109.C08.039  East, West, daie, night; And I could saie, [36v]
109.C08.040  If the worlde had lasted, now itt had bein daye.
109.C08.041  Thowsands our noises were; yett wee mongst all
109.C08.042  Could none by his right name, butt thunder call.
109.C08.043  Lightening was all our light, And itt rayn'd more
109.C08.044  Then if the Sunn had drunck the Sea before.
109.C08.045  Some coffin'd in theire cabbins lye, equallie
109.C08.046  Greiu'd, that they are not dead, and yett must dye.
109.C08.047  And as Sinnd burdned soules, from graues will creepe,
109.C08.048  Att the last daie, some forth theire cabbins peepe:
109.C08.049  And tremblinglie ask what newes, and doe heare so
109.C08.050  Like iealous housbands, what they would not knowe.
109.C08.051  Some sitting on the hatches, woulde seeme there
109.C08.052  With hideous gazing to feare awaie feare.
109.C08.053  Then note the shipps sicknesses, the mast
109.C08.054  Shakd' with this ague, and the hould and waste
109.C08.055  With a salt dropsey clog'd, and all our tacklings
109.C08.056  Snapping, like to high stretcht trebble strings.
109.C08.057  And from our totterd sailes, raggs dropp downe so
109.C08.058  As from one hang'd in chaines, a yeire agoe.
109.C08.059  Euen our Ordinance placed for our defence
109.C08.060  Striue to breake loose, and scape awaie from thence. [CW:Pumping.|]
109.C08.061  Pumping, hath tyr'd our men, and whats the gaine? [37]
109.C08.062  Seas into Seas throwne, wee suck in againe,
109.C08.063  Hearing, hath deaft our Sailers; And if they
109.C08.064  Knew how to heare, ther's none knowes what to say.
109.C08.065  Compar'd to these stormes, death is butt a qualme,
109.C08.066  Hell somewhat lightsome, and the Bermuda calme.
109.C08.067  Darknes, lights eldest brother, his birth right
109.C08.068  Claimes o're this world, and to heauen hath chas'd light.
109.C08.069  All things are one, And that one, none can bee,
109.C08.070  Since all formes, vniforme deformitie,
109.C08.071  Dooth couer, so that except god saie,
109.C08.072  An other fiat, wee shall haue no more daye.
109.C08.073  So violent, yett long these furies bee
109.C08.074  That though thine absence sterue mee, I wish not thee.
109.C08.0SS  [om]
109.C08.0$$  %1No ind; line #s 50 & 67 penciled in the LM%2