Behind the fiend, swift hovering for the coast, Hangs o'er the wave Britannia's sail-wing'd host; They crowd the main, they spread their sheets abroad, From the wide Laurence to the Georgian flood, Point their black batteries to the peopled shore, And spouting flames commence the hideous roar. Where fortless Falmouth, looking o'er her bay, In terror saw the approaching thunders play, The fire begins; the shells o'er arching fly, And shoot a thousand rainbows thro the sky; On Charlestown spires, on Bedford roofs they light, Groton and Fairfield kindle from the flight, Norwalk expands the blaze; o'er Reading hills High flaming Danbury the welkin fills; Esopus burns, Newyork's delightful fanes And sea-nursed Norfolk light the neighboring plains. From realm to realm the smoky volumes bend, Reach round the bays and up the streams extend; Deep o'er the concave heavy wreaths are roll'd, And midland towns and distant groves infold. Thro solid curls of smoke, the bursting fires Climb in tall pyramids above the spires, Concentring all the winds; whose forces, driven With equal rage from every point of heaven, Whirl into conflict, round the scantling pour The twisting flames and thro the rafters roar, Suck up the cinders, send them sailing far, To warn the nations of the raging war, Bend high the blazing vortex, swell'd and curl'd, Careering, brightening o'er the lustred world, Absorb the reddening clouds that round them run, Lick the pale stars, and mock their absent sun: Seas catch the splendor, kindling skies resound, And falling structures shake the smouldering ground. Crowds of wild fugitives, with frantic tread, Flit thro the flames that pierce the midnight shade, Back on the burning domes revert their eyes, Where some lost friend, some perisht infant lies. Their maim'd, their sick, their age-enfeebled sires Have sunk sad victims to the sateless fires; They greet with one last look their tottering walls, See the blaze thicken, as the ruin falls, Then o'er the country train their dumb despair, And far behind them leave the dancing glare; Their own crusht roofs still lend a trembling light, Point their long shadows and direct their flight. Till wandering wide they seek some cottage door, Ask the vile pittance due the vagrant poor; Or faint and faltering on the devious road, They sink at last and yield their mortal load.