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With pomp and pride, aspiring to the skies,
Whose spacious halls once shone, with all that art
Or wealth could give, to dazzle and adorn,
A blazing pyramid of fire is seen.
Now its last ray illumes the glowing heavens,
Darts, sickens, and expires. What ruthless hand
Could spread the flames of vengeance, thus to blast,
Destroy, and desolate. Embers conceal'd
Of hatred and disunion, cherish'd long
By treachery's secret breath, and madly fir'd
By the wild torch of rashness, sprung to life.
Eternal Justice saw, and was incens'd;
And suffer'd them to rage; and lo! the flame
Has caught our fairest domes; it burns—it spreads,
And who shall quench it? Or with pow'rless strain,
Or hand so weak as mine, shall dare to paint
The horrors of that scene? The costly pile
Sinking in sheets of fire, and clouds of smoke;
The haste of flight, the agony of fear;
Pale apprehension, shuddering regret,
And misery, and tears? Ah! who shall bear
These shameful tidings, to our distant foes,
Nor shrink with anguish at his Country's wound?
Who, to the nations of the earth, shall tell
Her infamy, who once with noble front
Rank'd high among them? Who of all her sons
Can bear to gaze upon her eye, and say,
"Thy beauty is destroy'd, thy strength is slain?"
And when in future days, with downcast eyes,
