'Or, if my heedless youth has stepp'd astray, Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand; On me alone thy just displeasure lay, But take thy judgments from this mourning land. 'We all have sinn'd, and thou hast laid us low 'O let it be enough what thou hast done : [street, When spotted deaths ran arm'd through every With poison'd darts, which not the good could shun, The speedy could outfly, or valiant meet. 'The living few, and frequent funerals then, "O pass not, Lord, an absolute decree, Thy threatenings, Lord, as thine, thou may'st re- Continue still thyself to give the stroke, [voke; The' Eternal heard, and from the heavenly choir Chose out the cherub with the flaming sword; And bade him swiftly drive the' approaching fire From where our naval magazines were stor❜d. The blessed minister his wings display'd, The fugitive flames, chastis'd, went forth to pray The wanting orphans saw, with watery eyes, Nor could thy fabric, Paul, defend thee long, Though thou wert sacred to thy Maker's praise: Though made immortal by a poet's song; And poets' songs the Theban walls could raise. The daring flames peep'd in, and saw from far Heaven thought it fit to have it purg'd by fire. Now down the narrow streets it swiftly came, If only ruin must enlarge our way. And now four days the sun had seen our woes, Four nights the moon beheld the' incessant fire; It seem'd as if the stars more sickly rose, And farther from the feverish North retire. In the' empyrean Heaven, the bless'd abode, The Thrones and the Dominions prostrate lie, Not daring to behold their angry God; And an hush'd silence damps the tuneful sky. At length the' Almighty cast a pitying eye, An hollow crystal pyramid he takes, And hoods the flames that to their quarry strove. The vanquish'd fires withdraw from every place, Our King this more than natural change beholds; With sober joy his heart and eyes abound: To the All-good his lifted hands he folds, And thanks him low on his redeemed ground. As when sharp frosts had long constrain❜d the earth, A kindly thaw unlocks it with cold rain; And first the tender blade peeps up to birth, And straight the green fields laugh with promis'd grain. By such degrees the spreading gladness grew The Father of the people open'd wide His stores, and all the poor with plenty fed: Thus God's anointed God's own place supplied, And fill'd the empty with his daily bread. This royal bounty brought its own reward, And in their minds so deep did print the sense, That if their ruins sadly they regard, [thence. 'Tis but with fear the sight might drive him But so may he live long that Town to sway, They have not lost their loyalty by fire; Not with more constancy the Jews of old, Or with more vigour to rebuild it went. [Town, The utmost malice of the stars is past, Now frequent trines the happier lights among, And high-rais'd Jove from his dark prison freed, (Those weights took off that on his planet hung) Will gloriously the new-laid was succeed. Methinks already, from this chemic flame, Already, labouring with a mighty fate, She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow, And seems to have renew'd her charter's date, Which Heaven will to the death of Time allow. More great than human, now, and more august,† Before, she like some shepherdess did show, Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold, From her high turrets, hourly suitors come; The East with incense, and the West with gold, Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her doom. The silent Thames, her own domestic flood, * Mexico. + Augusta was one of the names of London. |