In black'ning volumes o'er the landscape bend:
Here the broad splendor blazes high to heaven,
There umber'd streams in purple pomp ascend.
In fiery eddies round the tott'ring walls,
Emitting sparks, the lighter fragments fly,
With frightful crash the burning mansion falls,
The works of years in glowing embers lie.
Tryon, behold thy sanguine flames aspire,
Clouds tinged with dies intolerably bright:
Behold, well pleased, the village wrapp'd in fire,