This is the second part of the (rather long) twenty-fifth item from Robert Dymond's book: "Things New and Old Concerning the Parish of Widecombe-in-the-Moor and its Neighbourhood" (1876)

Back to Contents List

The Widecombe Thunderstorm Part 2 - Poem

Through the kindness of Mr. R. J. King, the soundest and most learned authority on all that pertains to the folklore and history of Dartmoor, we are enabled to present the reader with the following lines given to him in manuscript many years ago by the late Rev. J. H. Mason. They are entitled “ A short Description of the Parish of Wydecombe-in-the-Moor, together with a plain narrative of that wonderful work of God’s power and mercy shewed to the inhabitants thereof, in that dreadful Storm of Thunder and Lightning which fell on the Church and Tower on the 21st of October, 1638, in the time of Divine Service.” The authorship of these lines is attributed to the Rev. George Lyde, in whose trunk they were found, and who was officiating in the Church when the storm broke upon it. The poetry coincides so closely with the prose narrative, both in fact and sentiment, as to lead to the conclusion that they both flowed from the same pen. Elderly people still living in the parish can recite‘ fragments of the poem from memory, but it‘ now makes its first appearance in print. The curious reader will not fail to note the reference to the presence of deer on Dartmoor in 1638, and to the tradition which even then attributed the erection of the church tower to the tin miners of Widecombe.

In Devon lyeth a parish long and wide

Called Widecombe, where pleasant rivers glide.

Rivers in plenty, rivers stored with fish,

Yea rivulets now afford no slender dish.

There's Niprel*, Webbron, Wallabrook, and Short,

Where turns and roars the famous river Dart.

Dart that encircles many miles about ;

Dart which abounds with salmon-peal and trout;

Dart whereinto those lesser rivers meet

And with an overflowing kindness greet,

Which makes the streams to swell and raise such floods

As if they would sometimes o’erturn the woods. +

The place seems barren to the outward show,

And looks as if no fruit thereon would grow.

But as the barren time in seasons best,

So is that place with summer’s garment drest.

And now I speak of barren kind, that kind

Of creatures, while it aptly calls to mind

How well that place is stored with Deers that brouze,

Both male and female on the tender boughs:

Nor is that all, but look yet further in,

Much hidden treasure lies in mines of tin,

Which have erected such a tower in height,

For strength and beauty comely to the sight,

That like in country seldom hath been seen,

So well contrived artificial been.

Until of latter years,—oh sad’s the story,

* An alternative name for the East Webburn.
+ It is manifest that the author had ringing in his ears the lines of his far more gifted countryman, William Browne, native of Tavistock, who, in his then recently published Britannia’s Pastorals, thus apostrophises the Wallabrook--not the tributary of the Dart referred to by Lyde, but the more western Wallabrook that flows into the Tavy :-—

“ Walla, the fairest nymph that haunts the woods,

Walla, beloved of shepherds, fauns and floods,

Walla, for whom the frolic satyrs pine,

Walla, with whose fine foot the flourets twine,

Walla, of whom sweet birds their ditties move

Walla, the earth's delight and Tavy’s love.”

It lost the beauty of it’s ancient glory,

By means of thunder, stormy winds and flame

Of lightning fierce combined to rend the same.

A rent so great, so pitiful the space,

One pinnacle was whirled from off its place.

Another in the midst, whose ponderous weight

Full on the church’s roof, o’erpowered by might,

Fell to the ground ; but that which makes the wonder

So little hurt done to the people under.

Here give me leave a narrative to impart

Of what befel, yea, sadly lay ’t to heart.

In thirty eight, October twenty one,

When people met for celebration

Of holy service on the Lord's own day,

His word to hear, to read, to sing and pray,

The heavens did lour, the church was darkened so

As did presage a sudden overthrow :

And on a sudden, with a thunder clap,

Both church and tower and chancel went to wrack.

Well might the people be involved with fears

When stones and timber fell about their ears.

Yet, see the goodness of God’s powerful arm

Then stretch’d forth to preserve us from harm.

The Lord was pleased for to direct the stones

As not to hurt, much less to break men’s bones.

Then farewell fortune, which blind heathens make

Their idol goddess, Christians only take

God for the sole preserver of events :

He orders all things after his intents :

Sun, moon, and stars, have all their influence

From the first mover of the circumference.

He rules Arcturus, Pleiades, Orion,

All luminaries of heaven’s region.

When storms do rise if clouds do break asunder,

’Tis the Almighty Lord that makes the thunder.

Hail, snow, and vapour, all fulfil the word

Of Him who is of Heaven and Earth, the Lord.

If there be any grown so atheistical

As to affirm there is no God at all,

Let them come hither, view these wondrous acts,

And let them too consider well the facts

That passed. If weighed in each circumstance,

They cannot stick to say there is no Providence.

But to return, and further to display

The sad events of that most dreadful day ;—

In the firm body of the tower was found,

Near about sixteen feet above the ground,

Such an hyatus made to perforate,

That a man’s body might creep in thereat.

Such force have thunderings, lightnings, when they meet

With trees or towers, they overturn or split.

All on a sudden, all in pieces snaps

Whatever comes within its furious claps.

Nor was the devil idle all the season,

The prince that ruffles in the airy region.

To set on work what wit and malice might

Act or invent, to end our days outright—

That wicked one, who aims to hurt or kill,

Loves to be seen in storms to assert his will ;——

In times of stormy wind and thunder loud

We used to say evil spirits are abroad :

And not unlike, for when the whirlwind blew,

Shook the house corners and Job’s children slew,

And ’tis most likely then in that design

The devil’s instruments were in the wind.

I’m sure ’tis not amiss for to believe

That it was God who gave the devil leave

To try the constancy of patient Job,

To rob him of his comforts, to disrobe

For Satan's forward for to act on ill

That he would work according to his will.

But God doth put a bridle in his jaws,

Thereby he keeps us from his ravenous claws,

In token that God hath not given us over

Unto the cruelty of the devourer.

But to pursue ; yet further to make known

What dreadful dangers in that storm fell on.

Lightnings we find such hidden virtue have

The sword to melt and not the scabbard sheath.

This I’ll assure is more, then, by report,

One man, his money melt, his purse not hurt.

What strange effects, how different in their kinds

As then appeared, you’d wonder in your minds.

Some with the fiery force of lightning had

Their bodies burnt, unchanged their outward clad :

Others again had garments torn and rent,

And yet their bodies free from detriment :

And others in their clothes and fleshy part

At once sustained great danger to their smart.

Have you not seen from an enkindled tire

How flames arise ? so did it here transpire :

A flaming fire and like a burning torch,

Which did the back parts of a neighbour scorch.

Fierce was the stroke, it made men’s ears to tingle,

So fierce a stroke, it made their hearts to tremble.

A panting fear, astonishing the glance,

Seized upon all ; and all were in a trance.

Strangely confused, they hurryed here and there,

And many knew not how or where they were.

No sooner waked, but an ill savoured stench,

Like as of sulphur, much annoyed the sense.

Nor is this all ; the further still we go

More is the danger, greater is the woe.

Now comes the tragic act, Death's fatal stroke

Parts man and wife and doth their lives unyoke.

One here, another there, sore wounded lies,

And shortly after yields up the ghost and dies.

Amongst others dead, in number four in all,

One had his brains dashed out against the wall.

I am astonished, both in heart and head,

To see so many, yet so few, lie dead.

Mine eye affects my head, my heart grows faint,

To think what clamorous cries and sad complaints

Were in that instant in that trembling plight,

As men affrighted at some ghastly sight

Did the astonished people post away,

Could not intreated be to stay and pray,

But, in the hurry, fearing an after clap,

One neighbour tumbles on another’s back.

As sheep scared by the wolf lest made a prey,

So ran the flock some scald, all scared away.

O that our people with as good a heart,

Would come to Church as then they did depart ;

That zeal would let them go into the place,

Where dwells God’s honour and where shines His grace !

As fear drove off, oh ! what a joy to see

Men come to church, as doves to windows flee :

But now, alas ! ’tis sad for to relate

How factiously bent some are to separate.

Others again, though not schismatical,

Yet graceless come to church or not at all.

Time was when Christ, whose zeal did burn like fire,

Was not a little moved, incensed with ire,

Drove buyers out o’ His Father’s house of prayer;

A place for saints, what makes prophaners there?

Then did he with a scourge of cords expel

All those that used therein to buy and sell,

But now, for want of 1ove, zeal, holy care,

In graceless hearts, to fit them to prepare

For holy duties, and to the temple bring,

How needful was a scourge to bring them in.-

This by the way, to draw towards conclusion,

God’s power and mercy kept us from confusion

In midst of dangers great, inevitable,

To be preserved from death is’t not a miracle?

Oh! who is like unto the Lord our God?

His name excells all in the world abroad

Fearful in praises, doing wondrous things,

From death to life, from dangers safely brings,

Light out of darkness, sweet out of bitter root,

Heaven out of hell, who but the Lord can do’t?

This is the way, the method God doth use,

Safe in a furnace Isaiah the Lord doth chuse.

We were as firebrands plucked out of fire,

Yet God was pleased life to re-inspire.

Oh ! blest be God, for ever bless His name,

Who hath preserved as from that burning flame.

Oh ! let the voice of praise be heard as loud.

As loud as was the thunder breaking cloud.

Oh ! let the fire of our devotion flame

As high as heaven, pierce the celestial frame,

Send up such incense, such perfume effuse

As God doth satisfy, men not refuse.

Pour out Trephallis, let Trehallis raise,

If God gave thy strength, make him thy praise.

Send up thy praises to His holy throne

And with the Holy Spirit join in one.

--------------------

Lines on a Wooden Tablet in the Church, said to be the production of one Hill, village schoolmaster, who was probably related to Roger Hill, one of the victims of the Storm.

In token of our thanks to God these tables were erected,

Who, in a dreadful thunderstorm, our persons here protected,

Within this Church of Widecombe, ’mongst many fearful signs,

The manner of it is declared in these ensuing lines :

In sixteen hundred thirty-eight, October twenty-first,

On the Lord’s-day, at afternoon, when people were addressed

To their devotions, in this church, while singing here they were

A psalm, distrusting nothing of the danger then so near,

A crack of thunder suddenly, with lightning, hail, and fire,

Fell on the church and tower here, and ran into the choir,

A sulphureous smell came with it, and the tower strangely rent,

The stones abroad into the air with violence were sent,

Some broken small as dust," or sand, some whole as they came out

Forth of the building, and here lay in places round about,

Some fell upon the church, and brake the roof in many places ;

Men so perplexed were they knew not one another’s faces :

They all or most were stupefied that with so strange a smell

Or other force, whate’er it was, which at that time befell ;

One man was struck dead, two wounded, so they died a few hours after,

No father could think on his son, nor mother mind her daughter,

One man was scorched so that he lived but fourteen days and died,

Whose clothes were very little burnt, but many there beside

Were wounded, scorched, and stupefied in that so strange a storm,

Which who had seen would say 'twas hard to have preserved a worm.

The different affections of people then were such

That, touching some particulars, we have omitted much,

But what we here related have is truth in most men’s mouths.

Some had their skin all over scorched, yet no harm in their clothes ;

One man had money in his purse, which melted was in part,

A key likewise, which hung thereto, and yet the purse not hurt,

Save only some black holes, so small as with a needle made.

Lightning, some say, no scabbard hurts, but breaks and melts the blade.

One man there was sat on the bier that stood fast by the wall,

The bier was tore with stones that fell, he had no harm at all,

Not knowing how he thence came forth, nor how the bier was torn.

Thus in this doleful accident great numbers were forborne,

Amongst the rest a little child, which scarce knew good from ill,

Was seen to walk amidst the church, and yet preserved still.

The greatest admiration was that most men should be free

Among so many dangers here which we did hear and see.

The church within so filled was with timber, stones, and fire,

That scarce a vacant place was seen in church or in the choir ;

Nor had we memory to strive from those things to be gone,

Which would have been but work in vain, all was so quickly done.

The wit of man could not cast down so much from off the steeple,

From off the church’s roof, and not destroy much of the people ;

But He who rules both air and fire, and other forces all,

Hath us preserved, bless’d be His name, in that most dreadful fall.

If ever people had a cause to serve the Lord and pray,

For judgment and deliverance, then surely we are they ;

Which, that we may perform, by the assistance of His grace,

That we at last in time may have with Him a dwelling place,

All you that look upon these lines of this so sad a story,

Remember who hath you preserved, ascribe unto His glory

The preservation of your lives, who might have lost your breath

When others did, if mercy had not step’d ’twixt you and death.

We hope that they were well prepared, although we know not how

‘Twas then with them, it's well with you if you are ready now.

Amos iv. 11 : “ Ye were as a firebrand plucked out of the burning."

Back to Top