A POEM ON THE EARTHQUAKE AT _LISBON_. _LONDON_: Printed for W. OWEN, near _Temple-Bar_, 1755. [Price Sixpence.] A POEM ON THE EARTHQUAKE AT _LISBON_. Calm was the Sky, the Sun serenely bright, Shot o’er the Sea long dazzling Streams of Light. Thro’ Orange Groves soft breathing Breezes play’d, And gather’d Sweets like Bees where e’er they stray’d. In fair Relievo stood the lofty Town, 5 Set off by radiant Lights and Shadows brown; While ev’ry Dome, each Cupola and Spire, Shone doubly gilt by the Sun’s lambent Fire. And where beneath, the Silver _Tagus_ flow’d, In many a stately Row tall Vessels rode; 10 So smooth it flow’d that all the various View, Reflected there, was downward seen anew, And as it softly stole along the Plain, Carry’d a floating Landskip to the Main. Within the Town gay Crowds were seen to stray, 15 While full Processions grac’d the festive Day. Mechanicks by their honest Labour fed, With chearful Visage earn’d their daily Bread; Misers were counting o’er their ill-got Store, But not contented meditating more. 20 Spendthrifts were just awak’d from Golden Dreams; Projectors were inventing Lottery Schemes; Merchants were storing Goods from _India_ brought; Clients were selling Lands which Lawyers bought. Behold a Youth, and sitting by his Side, 25 A Damsel new-betroth’d, his destin’d Bride; Around them throngs a Train of Virgins gay, Preparing Garments for the Marriage-day. Alas!--And now rings out the Matin Bell, The pious Matron issuing from her Cell, 30 Inspir’d by true Devotion joins the Crowd, And aw’d with Reverence seeks the House of God; There humbly prostrate kneels upon the Ground-- Happy the Few that watching so are sound! Ill-fated City! there were Revels kept, 35 Devoid of Fear, they eat, they drank, they sleep’d. No friendly Voice like that of antient _Rome_, Was sent to give them Warning of their Doom: No Airy Warriours to each other clung, Such as ’tis said o’er destin’d _Sion_ hung; 40 But like a nightly Thief their dreadful Fate, Unlook’d for came and undermin’d their State.