The diligence of trades 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 blown, 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 th' infant monster, with devouring strong, Walked 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, with-held His flames from burning, but to blow them more; And, every fresh attempt, he is repelled With faint denials, weaker than before.[180]
And now, no longer letted 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 threatning 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.[181]
Our guardian angel saw them where they sate, Above the palace of our slumbering king; He sighed, abandoning his charge to fate, And, drooping, oft looked back upon the wing.
At length the crackling noise and dreadful blaze Called 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-clothed, 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 jostle as they meet.
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.