Of many steps is in the echoing street,
And pressure of pale crowds, scarce conscious why they meet.
LXVI.
Their homes are luxury’s yet; why pour they thence
With a dim terror in each restless eye?
Hath the dread car which bears the pestilence,
In darkness, with its heavy wheels roll’d by,
And rock’d their palaces, as if on high
The whirlwind pass’d? From couch and joyous board
Hath the fierce phantom beckon’d them to die![218]