206

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

207

Some English wool, vexed 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.

208

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.

209

Transition to But, ah! how unsincere are all our joys,

the Fire of

London.

Which sent from Heaven, like lightning, make no
stay!

Their palling taste the journey's length destroys,
Or grief sent post o'ertakes them on the way.

210

Swelled with our late successes on the foe,

Which France and Holland wanted power to cross,

We urge an unseen fate to lay us low

And feed their envious eyes with English loss.

2II

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.

212

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 c.

213

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;

214

Till, fully ripe, his swelling fate breaks out
And hurries him to mighty mischiefs on;
His Prince, surprised, at first no ill could doubt,
And wants the power to meet it when 'tis known.

215

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.
216

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.

217

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.

218

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

C' Quum mare, quum tellus, correptaque regia cœli ardeat,' &c. [Not quite correctly quoted by Dryden :

Esse quoque in fatis reminiscitur, affore tempus

Quo mare, quo tellus correptaque regia coli

Ardeat, et mundi moles operosa laboret.'

OVID, Metam. vii. 453.]

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 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.

221

The winds, like crafty courtesans, withheld

His flames from burning but to blow them more: And, every fresh attempt, he is repelled

With faint denials, weaker than before a.

222

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 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 sighed, abandoning his charge to Fate,
And drooping oft looked back upon the wing.

d Like crafty, &c. 'Hæc arte tractabat cupidum virum ut illius animum inopia accenderet.' [Incorrectly quoted by Dryden from

Terence:

Hæc arte tractabat virum

Ut illius animum cupidum inopia accenderet.'

Heautontim. ii. 3. 106.]

225

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.
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 justle 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 thronged and busy as by day; Some run for buckets to the hallowed 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 impelled soon left their foes behind And forward with a wanton fury went.

231

A key of fire ran all along the shore

And lighted all the river with a blazee;
The wakened tides began again to roar,
And wondering fish in shining waters gaze.

e Sigæa igni freta late relucent.'-VIRG. [Æn. ii. 312.]

232

Old Father Thames raised up his reverend head,

But feared the fate of Simois would return;
Deep in his ooze he sought his sedgy bed
And shrank 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 the 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 sidewind sped,

Through narrow lanes his cumbered 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 the imperial palace is designed.

238

Now day appears; and with the day the King,
Whose early care had robbed him of his rest;
Far off the cracks of falling houses ring

And shrieks of subjects pierce his tender breast.