[68]

Loomed over the city one ominous glare,

As dark yawning funnels from foul throats for ever

Belched smoke grimly flaming, which outraged the air.

On, on, by long quays where the lamps in the river

Were writhing like serpents that hiss ere they drown,

And poplars with palsy seemed coldly to shiver,

On, on, to the bare desert end of the town.

When lo! the wind stopped like a heart that's ceased beating,

And nought but the waters, white foaming and brown,

Were heard as to seaward their currents went fleeting.

But hark! o'er the lull breaks a desolate moan,

Like a little lost lamb's that is timidly bleating

[69]

When, strayed from the shepherd, it staggers alone

By tracks which the mountain streams shake with their thunder,

Where death seems to gape from each boulder and stone.

I turned to the murmur: the clouds swept asunder

And wheeled like white sea-gulls around the white moon;

And the moon, like a white maid, looked down in mute wonder

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