II.
Ha! yonder they rush where the death-dealing stream,
Over-pent, waits their gleam,
To shiver the city with earthquake!—Who, who
Will adventure, mid-flame, and unfasten the screw,—
Set the fiend loose, and save us so?—Fireman, you,
You willing?—Would God you might hazard it!—
Nay,
The red tongues are licking the faucets now: Stay!
—Too late,—'tis too late!
If ruin comes, wait
Its coming: To go, is to perish:—Hold! Hold!
You are young,—I am old,—
You've a wife, too—and children?—O God! he is gone
Straight into destruction! The pipes, men! On, on,
Play the water-stream on him,—full—faster—the whole!
And now—Christ save his soul!