Incipient tongues of flame and clouds of smoke.
The orders, ruthless and inflexible,
Were by the soldiers executed well.
Still down the turnpike dashed my sweating horse,
I plied the cruel spurs with double force,
When in the distance there appeared to view
The old stone manor-house my childhood knew.
My spirit sank,—though I was not surprised,
My worst misgivings had been realized,
For from the roof and upper windows came