TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

The long-form s ( ſ ) in the original text has been replaced by the modern s in this etext.

A few obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

Some minor changes to the text are noted at the [end of the book.]

Let this Book be Printed.

Roger L’Estrange.

March 28.

1665.

THE
Plague of Athens,

Which hapned in the

SECOND YEAR

OF THE

Peloponnesian Warre.

First described in Greek by Thucydides;

Then in Latin by Lucretius.

Now attempted in English,

By Tho. Sprat.

LONDON,

Printed by E. C. for Henry Brome, at the Gun in
Ivy-lane, 1665.

To my Worthy and Learned Friend,
Dr. Walter Pope, late Proctor of
the University of Oxford.

SIR,

I Know not what pleasure you could take in bestowing your commands so unprofitably, unless it be that for which Nature sometimes cherishes and allows Monsters, The love of Variety. This onely delight you will receive by turning over this rude and unpolisht Copy, and comparing it with my excellent Patterns, the Greek and Latin. By this you will see how much a noble Subject is chang’d and disfigured by an ill hand, and what reason Alexander had to forbid his Picture to be drawn but by some celebrated Pencil. In Greek Thucydides so well and so lively expresses it, that I know not which is more a Poem, his description, or that of Lucretius. Though it must be said, that the Historian had a vast advantage over the Poet; He having been present on the place, and assaulted by the disease himself, had the horror familiar to his Eyes, and all the shapes of the misery still remaining on his mind, which must needs make a great impression on his Pen and Fancie. Whereas the Poet was forced to allow his foot-steps, and onely work on that matter he allow’d him. This I speak, because it may in some measure too excuse my own defects: For being so far remov’d from the place whereon the disease acted its Tragedy; and time having denied us many of the circumstances, customes of the Countrey, and other small things which would be of great use to any one who did intend to be perfect on the subject; besides onely writing by an Idea of that which I never yet saw, nor care to feel, (being not of the humor of the Painter in Sir Philip Sidney, who thrust himself into the midst of a Fight, that he might the better delineate it) having, I say, all these disadvantages, and many more, for which I must onely blame my self, it cannot be expected, that I should come near equalling him in whom none of the contrary advantages were wanting. Thus then, Sir, by emboldning me to this rash attempt, you have given opportunitie to the Greek and Latin to Triumph over our Mother tongue. Yet I would not have the honour of the Countries or Languages engaged in the comparison, but that the inequality should reach no farther than the Authors. But I have much reason to fear the just indignation of that excellent Person, (the present Ornament and Honour of our Nation) whose way of writing I imitate: for he may think himself as much injured by my following him, as were the Heavens by that bold mans counterfeiting the sacred and unimitable noise of Thunder by the sound of Brass and Horses hoofs. I shall onely say for my self, that I took Cicero’s advice, who bids us in imitation propose the Noblest pattern to our thoughts; for so we may be sure to be raised above the common Level, though we come infinitely short of what we aim at. Yet I hope that renowned Poet will have none of my crimes any way reflect on himself; for it was not any fault in the excellent Musician, that the weak Bird, indeavouring by straining its throat, to follow his Notes, destroyed her self in the Attempt. Well, Sir, by this, that I have chosen rather to expose my self than be disobedient, you may guess with what zeal and hazard I strive to approve my self,

SIR,

Your most Humble and

Affectionate Servant,

Tho. Sprat.

Thucydides, Lib. 2.

As it is excellently Translated by Mr. Hobbs.

In the very beginning of Summer, the Peloponnesians, and their Confederates, with two thirds of their forces, as before invaded Attica, under the conduct of Archidamus, the son of Zeuxidamas, King of Lacedæmon, and after they had encamped themselves, wasted the Countrey about them.

They had not been many days in Attica, when the Plague first began amongst the Athenians, said also to have seized formerly on divers other parts, as about Lemnos, and elsewhere; but so great a Plague, and Mortality of Men, was never remembred to have hapned in any place before. For at first, neither were the Physicians able to cure it, through ignorance of what it was, but died fastest themselves, as being the men that most approach’d the sick, nor any other art of man availed whatsoever. All supplications to the Gods, and enquiries of Oracles, and whatsoever other means they used of that kind, proved all unprofitable; insomuch as subdued with the greatness of the evil, they gave them all over. It began (by report) first, in that part of Æthiopia that lieth upon Ægypt, and thence fell down into Ægypt and Afrique, and into the greatest part of the Territories of the King. It invaded Athens on a sudden, and touched first upon those that dwelt in Pyræus, insomuch as they reported that the Peloponnesians had cast poyson into their Wells; for Springs there were not any in that place. But afterwards it came up into the high City, and then they died a great deal faster. Now let every man, Physician, or other, concerning the ground of this sickness, whence it sprung, and what causes he thinks able to produce so great an alteration, speak according to his own knowledge; for my own part, I will deliver but the manner of it, and lay open onely such things, as one may take his Mark by, to discover the same if it come again, having been both sick of it my self, and seen others sick of the same. This year, by confession of all men, was of all other, for other Diseases, most free and healthful. If any man were sick before, his disease turned to this; if not, yet suddenly, without any apparent cause preceding, and being in perfect health, they were taken first with an extream ache in their Heads, redness and inflamation of the Eyes; and then inwardly their Throats and Tongues grew presently bloody, and their breath noysome and unsavory. Upon this followed a sneezing and hoarsness, and not long after, the pain, together with a mighty cough, came down into the brest. And when once it was setled in the Stomach, it caused vomit, and with great torment came up all manner of bilious purgation that Physicians ever named. Most of them had also the Hickeyexe, which brought with it a strong Convulsion, and in some ceased quickly, but in others was long before it gave over. Their bodies outwardly to the touch, were neither very hot, nor pale, but reddish, livid, and beflowred with little pimples and whelks; but so burned inwardly, as not to endure any the lightest cloaths or linnen garment to be upon them, nor any thing but meer nakedness, but rather, most willingly to have cast themselves into the cold water. And many of them that were not looked to, possessed with insatiate thirst, ran unto the Wells; and to drink much, or little, was indifferent, being still from ease and power to sleep as far as ever. As long as the disease was at the height, their bodies wasted not, but resisted the torment beyond all expectation, insomuch as the most of them either died of their inward burning in 9 or 7 dayes, whilest they had yet strength, or if they escaped that, then the disease falling down into their bellies, and causing there great exulcerations and immoderate looseness, they died many of them afterwards through weakness: For the disease (which took first the head) began above, and came down, and passed through the whole body; and he that overcame the worst of it, was yet marked with the loss of his extreme parts; for breaking out both at their Privy-members, and at their Fingers and Toes, many with the loss of these escaped. There were also some that lost there Eys, & many that presently upon their recovery were taken with such an oblivion of all things whatsoever, as they neither knew themselves nor their acquaintance. For this was a kind of sickness which far surmounted all expression of words, and both exceeded Humane Nature, in the cruelty wherewith it handled each one, and appeared also otherwise to be none of those diseases that are bred amongst us, and that especially by this. For all, both Birds and Beasts; that use to feed on Humane flesh, though many men lay abroad unburied, either came not at them, or tasting perished. An Argument whereof as touching the Birds, is the manifest defect of such Fowl, which were not then seen, neither about the Carcasses, or any where else; but by the Dogs, because they are familiar with Men, this effect was seen much clearer. So that this disease (to pass over many strange particulars of the accidents that some had differently from others) was in general such as I have shewn; and for other usual sicknesses, at that time, no man was troubled with any. Now they died, some for want of attendance, and some again with all the care and Physick that could be used. Nor was there any, to say, certain Medicine, that applied must have helped them; for if it did good to one, it did harm to another; nor any difference of Body for strength or weakness that was able to resist it; but it carried all away what Physick soever was administred. But the greatest misery of all was, the dejection of Mind, in such as found themselves beginning to be sick, (for they grew presently desperate, and gave themselves over without making any resistance) as also their dying thus like Sheep, infected by mutual visitation: For if men forbore to visit them for fear, then they died forlorn, whereby many Families became empty, for want of such as should take care of them. If they forbore not, then they died themselves, and principally the honestest men. For out of shame, they would not spare themselves, but went in unto their friends, especially after it was come to this pass, that even their Domesticks, wearied with the lamentations of them that died, and overcome with the greatness of the calamity, were no longer moved therewith. But those that were recovered, had much compassion both on them that died, and on them that lay sick, as having both known the misery themselvs and now no more subject to the like danger: For this disease never took any man the second time so as to be mortal. And these men were both by others counted happy, and they also themselves, through excess of present joy, conceived a kind of light hope, never to die of any other sickness hereafter. Besides the present affliction, the reception of the Countrey people, and of their substance into the City, oppressed both them, and much more the people themselves that so came in. For having no Houses, but dwelling at that time of the year in stifling Booths, the Mortality was now without all form; and dying men lay tumbling one upon another in the Streets, and men half dead about every Conduit through desire of water. The Temples also where they dwelt in Tents, were all full of the dead that died within them; for oppressed with the violence of the Calamity, and not knowing what to do, Men grew careless, both of Holy and Prophane things alike. And the Laws which they formerly used touching Funerals, were all now broken; every one burying where he could find room. And many for want of things necessary, after so many Deaths before, were forced to become impudent in the Funerals of their Friends. For when one had made a Funeral Pile, another getting before him, would throw on his dead, and give it fire. And when one was in burning, another would come, and having cast thereon him whom he carried, go his way again. And the great licentiousness, which also in other kinds was used in the City, began at first from this disease. For that which a man before would dissemble, and not acknowledge to be done for voluptuousness, he durst now do freely, seeing before his Eyes such quick revolution, of the rich dying, and men worth nothing inheriting their Estates; insomuch as they justified a speedy fruition of their Goods, even for their pleasure, as Men that thought they held their Lives but by the day. As for pains, no man was forward in any action of Honour, to take any, because they thought it uncertain whether they should die or not, before they atchieved it. But what any man knew to be delightful, and to be profitable to pleasure, that was made both profitable and honourable. Neither the fear of the Gods, nor Laws of men, awed any man. Not the former, because they concluded it was alike to worship or not worship, from seeing that alike they all perished: nor the latter, because no man expected that lives would last, till he received punishment of his crimes by Judgement. But they thought there was now over their heads some far greater Judgement decreed against them; before which fell, they thought to enjoy some little part of their Lives.

The Plague of
ATHENS.

Unhappy Man! by Nature made to sway,

And yet is every Creatures prey,

Destroy’d by those that should his power obey.

Of the whole World we call Mankind the Lords,

Flattring our selves with mighty words;

Of all things we the Monarchs are,

And so we rule, and so we domineer;

All creatures else about us stand

Like some Prætorian Band,

To guard, to help, and to defend;

Yet they sometimes prove Enemies,

Sometimes against us rise;

Our very Guards rebel, and tyrannize.

Thousand Diseases sent by Fate,

(Unhappie Servants!) on us wait;

A thousand Treacheries within

Are laid weak Life to win;

Huge Troops of Maladies without,

(A grim, a meager, and a dreadful rout:)

Some formal Sieges make

And with sure slowness do our Bodies take;

Some with quick violence storm the Town,

And all in a moment down:

Some one peculiar sort assail,

Some by general attempt prevail.

Small Herbs, alas, can onely us relieve,

And small is the assistance they can give;

How can the fading Off spring of the Field

Sure health and succour yield?

What strong and certain remedie?

What firm and lasting life can ours be?

When that which makes us live, doth ev’ry Winter die?

II.

Nor is this all, we do not onely breed

Within our selves the fatal seed

Of change, and of decrease in ev’ry part,

Head, Bellie, Stomach, and the Root of Life the Heart,

Not onely have our Autumn, when we must

Of our own Nature turn to Dust,

When Leaves and Fruit must fall;

But are expos’d to mighty Tempests too,

Which do at once what that would slowlie do,

Which throw down Fruit and Tree of Life withal.

From ruine we in vain

Our bodies by repair maintain,

Bodies compos’d of stuff,

Mouldring and frail enough;

Yet from without as well we fear

A dangerous and destructful War,

From Heaven, from Earth, from Sea, from Air.

We like the Roman Empire should decay,

And our own force would melt away

By the intestine jar

Of Elephants, which on each other prey,

The Cæsars and the Pompeys which within we bear:

Yet are (like that) in danger too

Of forreign Armies, and external foe,

Sometimes the Gothish and the barbarous rage

Of Plague, or Pestilence, attends Mans age,

Which neither Force nor Arts asswage;

Which cannot be avoided, or withstood,

But drowns, and over-runs with unexpected Flood.

III.

On Æthiopia, and the Southern-sands,

The unfrequented Coasts, and parched Land,

Whither the Sun too kind a heat doth send,

(The Sun, which the worst Neighbour is, and the best Friend)

Hither a mortal influence came,

A fatal and unhappy flame,

Kindled by Heavens angry beam.

With dreadful frowns the Heavens scattered here

Cruel infectious heats into the Air,

Now all their stores of poyson sent,

Threatning at once a general doom,

Lavisht out all their hate, and meant

In future Ages to be innocent,

Not to disturb the World for many years to come.

Hold! Heavens hold! Why should your Sacred Fire,

Which doth to all things Life inspire,

By whose kinde beams you bring

Each year on every thing,

A new and glorious Spring,

Which doth th’ Original Seed

Of all things in the Womb of Earth that breed,

With vital heat and quick’ning seed,

Why should you now that heat imploy,

The Earth, the Air, the Fields, the Cities to annoy?

That which before reviv’d, why should it now destroy?

IV.

Those Africk Desarts strait were double Desarts grown,

The rav’nous Beasts were left alone,

The rav’nous beasts then first began

To pity their old enemy Man,

And blam’d the Plague for what they would themselves have done.

Nor stay’d the cruel evil there,

Nor could be long confin’d unto one Air,

Plagues presently forsake

The Wilderness which they themselves do make,

Away the deadly breaths their journey take.

Driven by a mighty wind,

They a new booty and fresh forrage find.

The loaded wind went swiftly on,

And as it past was heard to sigh and groan.

On Ægypt next it seiz’d,

Nor could but by a general ruine be appeas’d.

Ægypt in rage back on the South did look,

And wondred thence should come th’ unhappy stroke,

From whence before her fruitfulness she took.

Egypt did now curse and revile

Those very Lands from whence she has her Nile;

Egypt now fear’d another Hebrew God,

Another Angels Hand, a second Aarons Rod.

V.

Then on it goes, and through the Sacred Land

Its angry Forces did command,

But God did place an Angel there,

Its violence to withstand,

And turn into another road the putrid Air.

To Tyre it came, and there did all devour,

Though that by Seas might think it self secure:

Nor staid, as the great Conquerors did,

Till it had fill’d and stopt the tyde,

Which did it from the shore divide,

But past the waters, and did all possess,

And quickly all was wilderness.

Thence it did Persia over-run,

And all that Sacrifice unto the Sun;

In every Limb a dreadful pain they felt,

Tortur’d with secret coals did melt;

The Persians call’d upon their Sun in vain,

Their God increas’d the pain.

They lookt up to their God no more,

But curse the beams they worshipped before,

And hate the very fire which once they did adore.

VI.

Glutted with ruine of the East,

She took her wings and down to Athens past:

Just Plague! which dost no parties take,

But Greece as well as Persia sack,

While in unnatural quarrels they

(Like Frogs and Mice) each other slay,

Thou in thy ravenous claws took’st both away.

Thither it came and did destroy the Town,

Whilest all its Ships and Souldiers lookt upon:

And now the Asian Plague did more

Than all the Asian Force could do before.

Without the Walls the Spartan Army sate,

The Spartan Army came too late;

For now there was no farther work for fate.

They saw the Citie open lay,

An easie and a bloodless prey,

They saw the rampires emptie stand,

The Fleet, the Walls, the Forts Unman’d.

No need of crueltie or slaughters now

The Plague had finisht what they came to do:

They might now unresisted enter there,

Did they not the very Air,

More than th’ Athenians fear.

The Air it self to them was wall, and bullwarks too.

VII.

Unhappy Athens! it is true, thou wert

The proudest work of Nature and of Art:

Learning and strength did thee compose,

As soul and body us:

But yet thou onely thence art made

A nobler prey for Fates t’ invade.

Those mighty numbers that within thee breath,

Do onely serve to make a fatter feast for Death.

Death in the most frequented places lives,

Most tribute from the croud receives;

And though it bears a sigh, and seems to own

A rustick life alone:

It loves no Wilderness,

No scattred Villages,

But mighty populous Palaces,

The throng, the tumult, and the town;

What strange, unheard-of Conqueror is this,

Which by the forces that resist it doth increase!

When other Conquerors are

Oblig’d to make a slower war,

Nay sometimes for themselves may fear,

And must proceed with watchful care,

When thicker troops of enemies appear;

This stronger still, and more successeful grows,

Down sooner all before it throws,

If greater multitudes of men do it oppose.

VIII.

The Tyrant first the haven did subdue,

Lately the Athenians (it knew)

Themselves by wooden walls did save,

And therefore first to them th’ infection gave,

Least they new succour thence receive.

Cruel Pyræus! now thou hast undone,

The honour thou before hadst wone:

Not all thy Merchandize,

Thy wealth, thy treasuries,

Which from all Coasts thy Fleet supplies,

Can to atone this crime suffice.

Next o’re the upper Town it spread,

With mad and undiscerned speed;

In every corner, every street,

Without a guide did sets its feet,

And too familiar every house did greet.

Unhappy Greece of Greece! great Theseus now

Did thee a mortal injury do,

When first in walls he did thee close,

When first he did thy Citizens reduce,

Houses and Government, and Lawes to use.

It had been better if thy people still

Dispersed in some field, or hill,

Though Salvage, and undisciplin’d did dwell,

Though barbarous, untame, and rude,

Than by their numbers thus to be subdu’d;

To be by their own swarms anoid,

And to be civilized onely to be destroid.

IX.

Minerva started when she heard the noise,

And dying mens confused voice.

From Heaven in haste she came to see

What was the mighty prodigie.

Upon the Castle pinacles she sate,

And dar’d not nearer fly,

Nor midst so many deaths to trust her very Deity.

With pitying look she saw at every gate

Death and destruction wait;

She wrung her hands, and call’d on Jove,

And all th’ immortal powers above;

But though a Goddess now did prey,

The Heavens refus’d, and turn’d their ear away.

She brought her Olive, and her Shield,

Neither of these Alas! assistance yield.

She lookt upon Medusaes face,

Was angry that she was

Her self of an Immortal Race,

Was angry that her Gorgons head

Could not strike her as well as others dead;

She sate, and wept awhile, and then away she fled.

X.

Now Death began her sword to whet,

Not all the Cyclops sweat,

Nor Vulcaus mighty Anvils could prepare

Weapons enough for her,

No weapon large enough but all the Air;

Men felt the heat within him rage,

And hop’d the Air would it asswage,

Call’d for its help, but th’ Air did them deceive,

And aggravate the ills it should relieve.

The Air no more was Vital now,

But did a mortal poyson grow;

The Lungs which us’d to fann the heart,

Onely now serv’d to fire each part,

What should refresh, increas’d the smart,

And now their very breath,

The chiefest sign of life, turn’d the cause of death.

XI.

Upon the Head first the disease,

As a bold Conqueror doth seize,