LXIX.

Away--away I rush’d; but swift and high The arrowy pillars of the firelight grew, Till the transparent darkness of the sky Flush’d to a blood-red mantle in their hue; And, phantom-like, the kindling city seem’d To spread, float, wave, as on the wind they stream’d, With their wild splendour chasing me! I knew The death-work was begun--I veil’d mine eyes, Yet stopp’d in spell-bound fear to catch the victims’ cries.