Now on their coasts our conquering navy rides, Waylays their merchants, and their land besets; Each day new wealth without their care provides; They lie asleep with prizes in their nets.

So close behind some promontory lie

The huge leviathans to attend their prey,
And give no chase, but swallow in the fry,
Which through their gaping jaws mistake the way.

Nor was this all; in ports and roads remote
Destructive fires among whole fleets we send ;*
Triumphant flames upon the waters float,
And out-bound ships at home their voyage end.

Those various squadrons variously design'd,
Each vessel freighted with a several load,
Each squadron waiting for a several wind,
All find but one, to burn them in the road.

Some bound for Guinea, golden sand to find,
Bore all the gauds the simple natives wear;
Some for the pride of Turkish courts design'd,
For folded turbans finest holland bear.

Some English wool, vex'd in a Belgian loom,
And into cloth of spungy softness made,
Did into France or colder Denmark doom,
To ruin with worse ware our staple trade.

Our greedy seamen rummage every hold,

Smile on the booty of each wealthier chest ; And as the priests, who with their gods make bold, Take what they like, and sacrifice the rest.

* Burning of the fleet in the Uly, by Sir Robert Holmes.

VOL. XI.

L

But, ah! how unsincere are all our joys!

[stay; Which, sent from Heaven, like lightning make no Their palling taste the journey's length destroys,

Or Grief, sent post, o'ertakes them on the way.

Swell'd with our late successes on the foe,
Which France and Holland wanted power to
We urge an unseen fate to lay us low, [cross,
And feed their envious eyes with English loss.*

Each element his dread command obeys,

Who makes or ruins with a smile or frown; Who, as by one he did our nation raise,

So now he with another pulls us down.

Yet London, empress of the Northern clime,
By an high fate thou greatly didst expire;
Great as the world's, which, at the death of Time,
Must fall, and rise a nobler frame-by fire.

As when some dire usurper Heaven provides,
To scourge his country with a lawless sway,
His birth, perhaps, some petty village hides,
And sets his cradle out of Fortune's way:

Till fully ripe, his swelling fate breaks out,

And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on; His prince, surpris'd at first, no ill could doubt, And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known.

Such was the rise of this prodigious fire,

Which, in mean buildings first obscurely bred, From thence did soon to open streets aspire, And straight to palaces and temples spread.

* Transition to the Fire of London.

The diligence of Trade, and noiseful Gain,
And Luxury, more late, asleep were laid:
All was the Night's, and, in her silent reign,
No sound the rest of Nature did invade.

In this deep quiet, from what source unknown,
Those seeds of fire their fatal birth disclose;
And, first, few scattering sparks about were blową,
Big with the flames that to our ruin rose.

Then in some close-pent room it crept along,
And, smouldering as it went, in silence fed:
Till the' infant monster, with devouring strong,
Walk'd boldly upright with exalted head.

Now, like some rich or mighty murderer,
Too great for prison, which he breaks with gold;
Who fresher for new mischiefs does appear,
And dares the world to tax him with the old :

So 'scapes the insulting fire his narrow jail,
And makes small outlets into open air;
There the fierce winds his tender force assail,
And beat him downward to his first repair.

The winds, like crafty courtezans, withheld
His flames from burning, but to blow them more;
At every fresh attempt he is repell'd

With faint denials, weaker than before.

And now, no longer letted of his prey,
He leaps up at it with enrag'd desire;
O'erlooks the neighbours with a wide survey,
And nods at every house his threat'ning fire.

The ghosts of traitors from the bridge descend,
With bold fanatic spectres to rejoice;
About the fire into a dance they bend,

And sing their sabbath-notes with feeble voice.

Our guardian angel saw them where they sate,
Above the palace of our slumbering King:
He sigh'd, abandoning his charge to Fate,

And, drooping, oft look'd back upon the wing.

At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze
Call'd up some waking lover to the sight;
And long it was ere he the rest could raise,
Whose heavy eyelids yet were full of night.

The next to danger, hot pursued by Fate,
Half-cloth'd, half-naked, hastily retire;

And frighted mothers strike their breasts, too late,
For helpless infants left amidst the fire.

Their cries soon waken all the dwellers near;
Now murmuring noises rise in every street:
The more remote run stumbling with their fear,
And, in the dark, men justle as they meet.

So weary bees in little cells repose;

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

Now streets grow throng'd and busy as by day: Some run for buckets to the hallow'd quire; Some cut the pipes, and some the engines play,

And some, more bold, mount ladders to the fire.

In vain: for from the east a Belgian wind

His hostile breath through the dry rafters sent; The flames, impell'd, soon left their foes behind, And forward, with a wanton fury, went.

A key of fire ran all along the shore,
And lighten'd all the river with a blaze;
The waken'd tides began again to roar,
And wondering fish in shining waters gaze.

Old Father Thames rais'd up his reverend head,
But fear'd the fate of Simois would return;
Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed,
And shrunk his waters back into his urn.

The fire, meantime, walks in a broader gross;
To either hand his wings he opens wide;
He wades the streets, and straight he reaches cross,
And plays his longing flames on t'other side.

At first they warm, then scorch, and then they take; Now with long necks from side to side they feed; At length, grown strong, their mother-fire forsake, And a new colony of flames succeed.

To every nobler portion of the Town

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

One mighty squadron, with a side-wind sped, Through narrow lanes his cumber'd fire does haste,

By powerful charms of gold and silver led,

The Lombard bankers and the 'Change to waste