by Anthony Hassett (1 of 3)
For three months, and in a confusion of names now vanished, our rotting vessels made slow headway through the strange aberrant splendors of the sea. Finally, in a state of madness, we ran our ships on shore, and so embedded them forever in sand.
Here we saw the marks of beasts,
not men, whose feet were likewise as great
as an oxen, which we measured to eight or nine
inches in breadth. This discovery somewhat disturbed
the muster of our poor men, who had not experience
of the like before.
Also, among the strange herbs and flowers, we saw
a great store of heathens
who resembled murdering over-grown monkeys,
which so frighted some of our men
that they began to go back, and retire in certain bushes.
Truly, it is strange to see what a speket mass
of loathsome things present themselves
on these isles -- firstly, to the view of God,
and now to the view and detestation
of Christian men.
And who shew such liberty in all kind
of lewd behavior, as they skip in the trees
from bough to bough, whereon is planted
a very fair vine, from which they stew a wine
or sacrament, and use it marvelous beastly.
It is with God's blessing that we shoot
and discharge into these demons our pieces,
that they too, through the scent of gunpowder
fired in piety, might suppose us to be gods,
and not persuaded to the contrary...
Anthony Hassett is an illustrator, poet, and the author of Gazette.
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Beautifully charged poem, diving headfirst into the “heart of darkness.”