219 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 :

220 So 'scapes th' 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.

221 The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld His flames from burning, but to blow them more: And every fresh attempt he is repell'd

With faint denials weaker than before.

222 And now no longer letted1 of his prey,
He leaps up at it with enraged desire :
O'erlooks the neighbours with a wide survey,

And nods at every house his threatening fire.

223 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.

224 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.

225 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.

'Letted:' hindered.

226 The next to danger, hot pursued by fate, Half-clothed, half-naked, hastily retire:

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

227 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 jostle as they meet.

228 So weary bees in little cells repose;

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

229 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.

230 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.

231 A quay 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.

232 Old father Thames raised 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.

233 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 th' other side.

234 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.

235 To every nobler portion of the town

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

236 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.

237 Another backward to the Tower would go,
And slowly eats his way against the wind:
But the main body of the marching foe
Against th' imperial palace is design'd.

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

And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast.

239 Near as he draws, thick harbingers of smoke
With gloomy pillars cover all the place;
Whose little intervals of night are broke
By sparks, that drive against his sacred face.

240 More than his guards, his sorrows made him known, And pious tears, which down his cheeks did shower; The wretched in his grief forgot their own;

So much the pity of a king has power.

241 He wept the flames of what he loved so well,
And what so well had merited his love:
For never prince in grace did more excel,
Or royal city more in duty strove.

242 Nor with an idle care did he behold:

Subjects may grieve, but monarchs must redress;
He cheers the fearful, and commends the bold,
And makes despairers hope for good success.

243 Himself directs what first is to be done,

And orders all the succours which they bring,
The helpful and the good about him run,
And form an army worthy such a king.

244 He sees the dire contagion spread so fast,
That, where it seizes, all relief is vain :
And therefore must unwillingly lay waste
That country, which would else the foe maintain.

245 The powder blows up all before the fire:
The amazèd flames stand gather'd on a heap;
And from the precipice's brink retire,
Afraid to venture on so large a leap.

246 Thus fighting fires a while themselves consume,
But straight, 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 stay for passage, till a gust of wind
Ships o'er their forces in a shining sheet:
Part creeping under ground their journey blind,
And climbing from below their fellows meet.

248 Thus to some desert plain, or old woodside,

Dire night-hags come from far to dance their round;
And o'er broad rivers on their fiends they ride,
Or sweep in clouds above the blasted ground.

249 No help avails: for hydra-like, the fire

Lifts up his hundred heads to aim his way;
And scarce the wealthy can one half retire,
Before he rushes in to share the prey.

250 The rich grow suppliant, and the poor grow proud;
Those 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 shores with joy behold
Some wealthy vessel split or stranded nigh;
And from the rocks leap down for shipwreck'd gold,
And seek the tempests which the others fly:

252 So these but wait the owners' last despair,

And what's permitted to the flames invade;
Even from their jaws they hungry morsels tear,
And on their backs the spoils of Vulcan lade.

253 The days were all in this lost labour spent ;
And when the weary king gave place to night,
His beams he to his royal brother lent,

And so shone still in his reflective light.