As pillar after pillar
Of smoke arose, which claimed
The attention of the people
As high the rafters flamed—
As stood they mute, and helpless,
While cinders rose and fell
’Mid the crackling and roaring
No mortal power could quell
A cry to Heaven ascended—
(Thro’ bravest hearts a thrill
Of horror crept:)—The proprietor
Is in the burning mill!”
Then stood aghast the people,
Astounded, stricken, dazed.—
While in that glowing furnace
The timbers cracked and blazed.
And, as the smoke ascended
In black, dense, billowy waves;
Each heart cried out in anguish:—
“Oh Father, God who saves
Look down in thy compassion!”—
The mad flames dart and sway
Like ruddy, fork-tongued dragons
That swift devour their prey.—
The winds sang a requiem,
And many a silent prayer
Arose. As smoke and flame illumined
The sky with lurid glare.—
Oh! friends and loving kindred—
Your hearts in grief must bow;
The proprietor of the factory
Needs not your pity now!
An Angel came and bore him
To that celestial shore
Where all from earthly trials
Shall triumph evermore.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Once more the scene is pleasant
O’er Turner’s hills and moors;
And peaceful lies the village
By fair Nezinscot’s shores.
Green meadows ever rolling
The pine-clad hills between
With anon interspersing
The river’s azure sheen.