Classic Poem

Look down into the Chasme , and keeps his hair
From lifting off his hat, either has none,
Or for more modish curls casheers his own.
It were injurious I must confess,
By mine to measure braver Courages:
But when I peep into't, I must declare,
My heart still beats, and eyes with horror stare.
And he, that standing on the brink of Hell ,
Can carry it so unconcern'd, and well,
As to betray no fear, is, certainly,
A better Christian , or a worse than I.

This yawning mouth is thirty paces long,
Scarce half so wide, within lin'd through with strong
Continuous Walls of solid perpend stone:
A Gulf wide, steep, black, and a dreadful one;
Which few, that come to see it, dare come near,
And the most daring still approach with fear.
Having with terror here beheld a space
The gastly aspect of this dang'rous place;
Critical Passengers usually sound,
How deep the threatning gulf goes under ground,
By tumbling down stones sought throughout the field,
As great as the officious Boores can wield,
Of which such Millions of Tuns are thrown,
That in a Country , almost all of stone,
About the place they something scarce are grown.
But being brought, down they'r condemn'd to go,
When silence being made, and ears laid low,
The first's turn'd off, which, as it parts the Air,
A kind of sighing makes as if it were
Capable of that useless passion, Fear,
Till the first hit strikes the astonisht ear,
Like Thunder under-ground; thence it invades,
With louder thunders, those Tartarean shades,
Which groan forth horror, at each ponderous stroke
Th'unnatural issue gives the Parent rock;
Whilst, as it strikes, the sound by turns we note,
When nearer flat , sharper when more remote,
As the hard walls, on which it strikes, are found
Fit to reverberate the bellowing sound:
When, after falling long, it seems to hiss,
Like the old Serpent in the dark Abyss :
Till Eccho, tir'd with posting, does refuse
To carry to th'inquisitive Perdu 's,
That couchant lye above, the trembling news.
And there ends our Intelligence; how far
It travails further, no one can declare;
Though if it rested here the place might well
Sure be accepted for a Miracle .

Your Guide to all these Wonders, never fails
To entertain you with ridic'lous tales
Of this strange place, One of a Goose thrown in,
Which out of Peaks-Arse two miles off, was seen
Shell-naked sally, rifled of her plume;
By which a man may lawfully presume,
The owner was a woman grave, and wise,
Could know her Goose again in that disguise.

Another lying Tale the People tell,
But without smiling, of a pond'rous Bell
By a long rope let down the Pit to sound;
When many hundred fadoms under-ground
It stopt: but though they made their sinews crack,
All the men there could not once move it back;
Till, after some short space, the plundred line
With scores of curious knots made wond'rous fine,
Came up amain with easie motion:
But for the Jangling Plummet , that was gone.

But with these idle Fables feign'd of old,
Some modern truths, and sad ones too are told:
One of that mercenary Fool expos'd
His Life for gold, t'explore what lies enclos'd
In this obscure Vacuity , and tell
Of stranger sights than Theseus saw in Hell :
But the poor Wretch pay'd for his thirst of gain;
For being cran'd up with a distemper'd brain,
A fault'ring tongue, and a wild staring look,
(Whether by damps not known, or horror strook)
Now this man was confederate with mischance
'Gainst his own Life, his whole inheritance,
Which bates the pity human nature bears
To poor involuntary Sufferers :
But the sad tale of his severer fate
Whose story's next, compassion must create,
He raving languish'd a few days, and then
Dy'd; peradventure to go down agen.
In savages and in the silent deep,
Make the hard marble, that destroy'd him, weep.

A Stranger , to this day from whence not known
Travelling this wild Countrey all alone,
And by the Night surpriz'd, by Destiny
(If such a thing, and so unkind there be)
Was guided to a Village near this place,
Where asking at a house how far it was
To such a Town , and being told so far;
Will you my friend, t'oblige a Traveller ,
Says the benighted Stranger , be so kind
As to conduct me thither; you will bind
My gratitude for ever, and in hand
Shall presently receive what you'l demand,
The fellow hum'd, and haw'd, and scratch'd his pate,