227.

Their cries foon waken all the dwellers near;
Now murmuring roifes rife in every street:
The more remote run ftumbling with their fear,
And in the dark men juftle as they meet.

So

228.

weary bees in little cells repofe;

But if night-robbers lift the well-flor'd hive, An humming through their waxen city grows, And out upon each other's wings they drive.

229.

Now ftreets grow throng'd and bufy as by day:
Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire :
Some cut the pipes, and fome the engines play;
And fome more bold mount ladders to the fire.
230.

In vain: for from the Eaft a Belgian wind

His hoftile breath through the dry rafters fent;
The flames impell'd foon left their foes behind,
And forward with a wanton fury went.
231.

A key of fire ran all along the fhore,

And lighten'd all the river with a blaze:
The waken'd tides began again to roar,
And wondering fish in fhining waters gaze.

232.

Old father Thames rais'd up his reverend head,
But fear'd the fate of Simois would return:

Deep in his ooze he fought his fedgy bed,
And fhrunk his waters back into his urn.

233.

The fire, mean-time, walks in a broader grofs;
To either hand his wings he opens wide:
He wades the ftreets, and ftraight he reaches cross,
And plays his longing flames on th' other fide.

234. At

234.

At first they warm, then fcorch, and then they take; Now with long necks from fide to fide they feed: At length grown ftrong their mother-fire forfake, And a new colony of flames fucceed.

235

To every nobler portion of the town

The curling billows roll their restless tide:
In parties now they ftraggle up and down,
As armies unoppos'd for prey divide.

236.

One mighty fquadron with a fide-wind fped,

Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does hafte,

By powerful charms of gold and filver led,

The Lombard bankers and the Change to wafte.

237.

Another backward to the tower would go,
And slowly eats his way againft the wind:
But the main body of the marching foe
Against th' imperial palace is defign'd.
238.

Now day appears, and with the day the king,
Whofe early care had robb'd him of his rest :
Far off the cracks of falling houses ring,

And fhrieks of fubjects pierce his tender breaft.
239.

Near as he draws, thick harbingers of fmoke
With gloomy pillars cover all the place;
Whofe little intervals of night are broke

By fparks, that drive against his facred face.

240.

More than his guards his forrows made him known, And pious tears which down his cheeks did fhow'r : The wretched in his grief forgot their own;

So much the pity of a King has pow'r.

G4

241. He

241.

He wept the flames of what he lov'd fo well,

And what fo well had merited his love: For never prince in grace did more excel, Or royal city more in duty ftrove.

242.

Nor with an idle care did he behold:

Subjects may grieve, but monarchs must redress; He chears the fearful and commends the bold, And makes defpairers hope for good fuccefs.

243.

Himfelf directs what firft is to be done,

And orders all the fuccours which they bring :
The helpful and the good about him run,
And form an army worthy fuch a King.

244.

He fees the dire contagion fpread so fast,
That where it feizes all relief is vain:
And therefore muft unwillingly lay waste

That country, which would elfe the foe maintain.

245.

The powder blows up all before the fire:

Th' amazed flames ftand gather'd on a heap ; And from the precipice's brink retire,

Afraid to venture on fo large a leap.

246.

Thus fighting fires a while themselves confume,
But ftraight like Turks forc'd on to win or die,
They first lay tender bridges of their fume,
And o'er the breach in unctuous vapours fly.

247.

Part ftay for paffage, 'till a guft of wind
Ships o'er their forces in a fhining fheet:
Part creeping under ground their journey blind,
And climbing from below their fellows meet.

248. Thus

248.

Thus to fome defert plain, or old wood-fide,

Dire night-hags come from far to dance their round; And o'er broad rivers on their fiends they ride,

Or fweep in clouds above the blafted ground.

249.

way:

No help avails: for hydra-like, the fire
Lifts up his hundred heads to aim his
And scarce the wealthy can one half retire,
Before he rushes in to fhare the prey.

250.

The rich grow fuppliant, and the poor grow proud :
Thofe offer mighty gain, and these ask more:
So void of pity is th' ignoble crowd,

When others ruin may increase their store.
251.

As those who live by fhores with joy behold
Some wealthy veffel fplit or ftranded nigh;
And from the rocks leap down for fhipwreck'd gold,
And feek the tempefts which the others fly:

252.

So thefe but wait the owners last despair,
And what's permitted to the flames invade;
Ev'n from their jaws they hungry morfels tear,
And on their backs the spoils of Vulcan lade.
253.

The days were all in this loft labour spent ;
And when the weary king gave place to night,

His beams he to his royal brother lent,

And fo fhone still in his reflective light.

254.

Night came, but without darkness or repofe,
A difmal picture of the general doom;
Where fouls distracted when the trumpet blows,
And half unready with their bodies come.

255. Thofe

255.

Those who have homes, when home they do repair, To a laft lodging call their wandering friends: Their fhort uneafy fleeps are broke with care,

To look how near their own deftruction tends.

256.

Those who have none, fit round where once it was, And with full eyes each wonted room require: Haunting the yet warm ashes of the place,

As murder'd men walk where they did expire.
257.

Some ftir up coals and watch the vestal fire,
Others in vain from fight of ruin run;
And while through burning lab'rinths they retire,
With loathing eyes repeat what they would fhun.
258.

The most in fields like herded beafts lie down,

To dews obnoxious on the grafly floor;

And while their babes in fleep their forrows drown, Sad parents watch the remnants of their store.

259.

While by the motion of the flames they guess
What streets are burning now, and what are near,
An infant waking to the paps would prefs,
And meets, inftead of milk, a falling tear,

260.

No thought can ease them but their fovereign's care, Whose praise th' afflicted as their comfort fing: E'en thofe, whom want might drive to just despair, Think life a bleffing under fuch a King.

261.

Mean time he fadly fuffers in their grief,
Out-weeps an hermit, and out-prays a faint:

All the long night he ftudies their relief,
How they may be fupply'd, and he may want.