WHITEHALL in FLAMES. A Pindaric Poem. Occasioned by The late Burning OF THAT Royal Palace.  
By Mr. TUTCHIM.  
LONDON, Printed for the Author, 1698. Price 6 d.   

To the Right Honourable the Earl of MONTAGU, Viscount Mount Hermon, Baron Montagu, Master of His Majesty's Wardrobe, and one of His Majesty's most Honourable Privy-Council.  
My LORD,  
TO prefix a noble Name to so inconsiderable a Trifle as this, may justly be esteemed a piece of the highest Arrongance; but the weakest Things need the greatest Support: Nor can we blame a despicable Animal for retiring to a noble Shelter. The late Conflagration, which has made a ruinous Heap of the Royal Palace, must needs affect the most sordid Spirits, much more those of the Court, in whose Horizon, Your Lordship is a Star of the first Magnitude: From a just Resentment of this great Loss, the Destruction of the Royal Palace of our British Monarch, did I attempt the following Poem; its hasty Performance will admit of no Beauties in it, being writ in far less time than the Royal Palace was burning: And therefore if Your Lordship commit it to the Flames, from whence it had its Original, I shall not esteem it a too rigorous Sentence: But Experience has taught me, That Your Lordship can dispense Your Favours where there is no Merit, which emboldened me to take this Opportunity of desiring the continuance of them to,  
My very good LORD, Your Lordship's most obliged, devoted humble Servant, JOHN TUTCHIM.   

White-Hall in FLAMES. A Pindaric POEM. Occasioned by the late Burning, & c.  

I.  
HOW many turns of Fate we Mortals find,  
While Life's dull Pilgrimage we go?  
How weak, our Bulwarks prove  
When stormed by Almighty Jove?  
Who hoard up Thunder, Storms of Rain and Wind;  
Sometimes he darts his Bolts, his Billows rave,  
His forked Lightning spreads, his Winds do blow;  
Raises the Mother Waters from their Cell,  
In Earthy Caverns where they dwell,  
And for their infant Springs apartments have:  
sometimes unlinks the Chains of the vast Sea,  
Which now no longer do the Rocks obey,  
But overflow and drown the fertile Earth,  
Which had from Jove its Form and its Birth:  
Unbiass'd Fate does not prefer  
The Kingly Palaces  
To the low Hovel of the Cottager;  
Alike o'er both the Waves increase;  
'Twixt Prince and Peasant no distinction's found,  
In the same Waves they swim, in the same Deluge drowned.   

II.  
Fate has ten thousand other ways,  
Our fond established Hopes to raze,  
The Winds, the Clouds, the Sea, the Land,  
Waiting its beck and motion stand,  
And trembling Nature is at its command.  
Jove speaks the Word,  
And the whole Machine shakes,  
The Storms do roar, and Lightnings fly,  
With pointed Terror, round th' affrighted Sky:  
Here the Earth opens, there it quakes:  
Fate whets its broad destroying Sword.  
No Enemy more dangerous is,  
It's Warrior's fierce and cruel do surprise,  
Their fatal Darts do seldom miss;  
Fate fights, and kills, and lays no heaps;  
A bloody Harvest reaps;  
Yet all its Weapons undiscovered by our Eyes.   

III.  
But one more dreadful than the rest,  
No poisonous Serpent, nor no savage Beast,  
Thirsting for Blood, does through the Forest roar,  
Nor with more eagerness the Prey devour:  
When Fate this Instrument assumes,  
It human Minds with Terror fills,  
Without distinction kills;  
All things before it, it consumes,  
Before it all things fall;  
This Instrument of Death, we Fire call:  
A strange rapacious Foe,  
Ten thousand Hydra's does contain;  
If to dismember it we go,  
Prolific Embers still remain,  
Which Fate puffs up unto a blaze;  
The direful Flames increase,  
Curling their Head, and darting Death  
At the unthinking Crowd beneath,  
Storm our Houses, and our Buildings raze.   

iv  
But why should Fate command its Flames  
Our mighty WILLIAM's Palace to attack?  
Did it a Subject lack?  
To wreak its Vengeance on?  
It might as well have gone  
To the Extremes  
Of the cold icy frozen North,  
Where the chilled Mortals Heat requrie;  
They would have thanked it for its Fire.  
If nought but Kingly Palaces  
Can Fates devouring Wrath appease;  
It might as well have sent its Engine forth  
Towards he sultry Regions of the South;  
There, there it might a Tyrant find,  
Neither to Laws of God nor Man confined;  
There, there it might with equal Rage devour,  
With equal Fury seize  
His Palaces;  
As he his Subjects with Despotic Power:  
Those Regions yield  
Monarches, that spend their Days  
In Luxury and Ease,  
And dread the Hardships of a Martial Field:  
The Tenement does hold  
A Prince, who ne'er his Valour show,  
Who ne'er a glorious Action knew;  
In Battles weak, in Murders bold;  
Foolish, yet insolent and proud;  
Contemned, and hated by the Crowd '  
Was a fit Subject for the Hate,  
The Rage, and Fury of devouring Fate.   

V  
WILLIAM, whose Fame does brighter shine,  
Than all the Praise dull Annals boast,  
Of mighty Caefar, Constantine,  
Pompey, or all that ancient Race:  
No greater Man did e'er Command an Host!  
Brighter by far,  
His Virtues are,  
Than the birght Fire,  
In which his Princely Palace did expire.  
A River could not once his Passage stop,  
When on the Banks the Forces join,  
And draw their large Battalions up,  
Of His and England's Foes;  
He bravely did their Front oppose,  
Drove Death before Him through th' affrighted Boys.  
But who to fight with Flames did go?  
A strange uncommon Foe!  
Yet had there been,  
Beyond the Flames, an Army seen,  
An Enemy me'r so brave,  
Designing England to enslave,  
He soon His Country had revenged,  
Passed through the Flames unhurt, unsinged.   

VI  
The Flames do now usurp the Sway;  
The slavish Buildings their Commands obey:  
Vulcan, the fastly God of Fire,  
Quits his Command,  
His deformed Cyclops stand  
Amazed, and at the raging Flames admire.  
The Flames no difference do know,  
Without distinction go,  
From Servants Lodgings, to each beauteous Pile;  
Each gaudy Tenement annoy;  
With crackling Horror spread  
O'er every Vulgar and each Noble Head,  
And with impetuous Fury do destroy  
The ancient Glory of our British Isle.  
Vast Crowds resort;  
Roused by the dread report:  
They come, and tremble as they stand,  
Their sinking Spirits can't their Limbs command:  
All in amaze,  
They at the dreadful Fire gaze;  
Lament the Death of the expiring Court.   

VII.  
But some, more vigorous than the rest,  
With less Confusion filled,  
Th' increasing Flames beheld:  
More active Courage they expressed,  
Some take their Buckets to the Thames;  
Whose winding Silver Streams  
Do now but gently flow,  
Stopping their Course, as if they meant to know  
How the Illustrious Buildings were.  
The affrighted Fish retire  
To th' other side, they saw the dismal Fire,  
And thought each Flame a Kitchen there.  
One takes the Water, and enraged,  
Is with the Flames engaged.  
The Flames passed at him swift as Fate,  
And he as swift does with his Buckets fence.  
His Ammunition by the Fire dried,  
His by the Crowd with a fresh force supplied:  
When he does fight at such a Rate,  
You'd think him a Colosse of Brass;  
From whence  
Water did spout; but Flames do pass  
Around his Head, and he is forced to yield,  
Leaving the Victor in a conquered Field.   

VIII.  
But what is Force in such Extremes?  
And who can fence with Flames?  
To Policy they now retire;  
Since they can't conquer, they contrive  
To stop the force of the insulting Fire:  
They do their utmost, hard they strive,  
They think it proper to remove  
Such Parts above,  
On which the Fire next would seize:  
Straight one ascends unto the top,  
Hoping its Violence to stop;  
As soon as he the Flames attacked,  
He was by others backed:  
None proved more desperate than these:  
Of these, those Giants had but little odds,  
Who on Olympus' Hill opposed the Gods.  
The Flames new Methods too pursue,  
They do their hidden Force renew;  
And while these Men aloft do go,  
They slily burn below;  
United Flames combine  
The Buildings t' undermine,  
While the bold Heroes on the top do crawl,  
They the Foundations sap,  
And dire mishap;  
The Heroes with the Buildings downwards fall.   

IX.  
This Project failing they retire  
To other Methods, how to stop the Fire;  
They find in vain they strove,  
Water does unsuccessful prove;  
One thinks it right,  
Such bold attempting Foes  
They with new Fire should oppose,  
And with their own insulting Weapons fight.  
The Guards are now to their assistance brought:  
Those Guards which breathe  
Nothing but Blood and Death;  
Whose Valour all the wondering World admites;  
In Head of whom our mighty WILLIAM fought,  
Large Trophies won,  
Immortal Garlands of Renown:  
Acquainted with more dread and dismal Fires,  
These presently prepare  
The horrid Instruments of War,  
Their hellish Powder place  
Within the Walls, compressed by weight,  
They lay their Trains, and strait  
The mighty Blow is heard;  
Which makes even Fate itself afraid;  
Which standing by, stairs the attempters in the face,  
Ashamed to own  
Its self by human Gallantry outdone.   

X.  
Had WILLIAM but as many Foes  
As Sparks do from these Flames arise;  
Or Sands we in the Mortar find,  
Which does the Buildings in contiguous order bind,  
How willingly would they oppose?  
How daringly despise  
His and the Nations Enemies?  
With Him 've past  
Regions, o'er desolate and waste;  
With Him 've gone  
Pinched by the Cold and scorched by the hot Sun;  
Have sometimes cut their Passage through the Sreams;  
But who, the Devil, can contend with Flames?  
Which if we do in one Place rout,  
Straight in another do break out,  
And do Destruction o'er the whole dispense;  
In vain we fence,  
In vain we strive,  
Our Destiny we can't retrieve,  
Or Limits to their wasting Fury give;  
Their Rage admits no bar;  
Curling their Head, they threaten Death from far.   

XI.  
But now another sort of Men appear,  
Completely armed for the fiery War,  
For such like Enterprises trained,  
And have long time the Guards remained  
Of fair Augusta, when insulting Fire  
Her Houses did attack,  
These did oppose  
And quelled her fiery Foes;  
Rescued at once their Wealth and State,  
From the dire Insults of Fate:  
As great Aeneas on his Back  
Bore through the Flames his aged Sire.  
But Fate afraid that these  
Would the destroying Flames appease,  
With greater force drives on  
The fell Destruction:  
Around the Palace does its Engines send,  
With greater Fury than before;  
The Flames devour,  
They crackle, blaze, and roar,  
Their Force on every Angle bend;  
Nor Brick, nor Stone, nor Would they spare,  
But all things fall in this destructive War.  
Of White-Hall now is only left the Name,  
Its Beauty's gone  
Does like the Aethiops lie,  
Which in hot Africa's sandy Regions fry,  
Scorched by the Heat of a more Torrid Sun:  
Here Houses levelled with the Ground,  
There Heaps of Rubbiish lie;  
Yonder are mangled Pillars found,  
Whole Stacks of Chimneys thrown,  
And Bricks like Bullets blown,  
Do upwards fly,  
As if they meant to attempt the Bulwarks of the Sky:  
All the same Fate must have,  
One common Grave;  
All must in Universal Ruin lie.  
Scarce could the Industry,  
Of Machiavilian Policy,  
Save from devouring Fate,  
The Books and Records of the British State.   

XIII.  
To every Angle now the Flames extend  
With rapid Force,  
Without Remorse,  
In pieces rend,  
Building which did some hundred Years engage,  
Th' Assaults of eating Time and Age.  
But now, behold  
How ravenous and how bold,  
The impious Flames do seize  
On Great MARIA's Lodging Place:  
The Great MARIA, whose blessed Name we own,  
Tho' to th' Aetherial Regions She is gone:  
Had She been living now,  
With such a Face, and such a Brow,  
She would the raging Destinies oppose,  
And quell these scorching Foes:  
That Fate in vain should its dull Tapers light,  
Augmented by the darkness of of the Night:  
Its yielding Fire,  
Before Her brighter Virtues would retire;  
As the pale Lustre of the nightly Moon,  
Retreats before the rising of the Sun.   

XIV.  
Let Fate Her Lodgings now engage,  
There try its utmost Rage,  
Thither no Succour send, give no Relief;  
What does of Her remain,  
Can but augment out Pain;  
Her very Memory does increase our Grief:  
Just as She went away  
To the blessed Empires of Eternal Day,  
Had rummaged all its Stores of Death,  
Deprived unhappy Mortals of their Breath;  
How easily we could prevent  
Its raging Force,  
And stop its Course:  
Then, than our Tears did freely flow,  
Whose briny Deluge would the Fire quench;  
The mournful Flood  
Would drowned its Fury, and it would  
Its thirsty Soul in briny Liquor drench:  
We than could Fate itself surprise;  
Sunk in the mighty Deluge of our Eyes.   

XV.  
Just as the undigested Chaos lay,  
When Time and all the Elements did commence,  
Formed by Omnipotence,  
And ghastly Night did usher in the Day:  
Just so the Palace lies in pieces burst;  
Rude as the World when 'twas created first.  
But while we do relate  
The dire Decrees, resolves of Fate,  
And of its Justice, do inquire,  
Why should this Palace thus be purged with Fire?  
Here 'twas that Hellish Plot was laid,  
Which of our City one great Bonfire made;  
Contrived by those  
Whose numerous Crimes augment their Parent's Score,  
And vilely had before,  
Burnt their solemn Leagues, and broke both Vow and Oaths.  
When the vast Deluge overflowed the Earth,  
It gave the drowned World a better Birth:  
London did thus from heaps of Rubbish rise,  
Start up with Pyramids do threat the Skies.  
Thus may the Royal Palace, brought so low,  
A Phoenix rise, in comely Order too,  
Glorious as mighty WILLIAM is in Deeds,  
O'retopping all, as Gaints common Heads.   
FINIS.