Yes, generous patrons, your returning smile
Blesses our toils, and consecrates our pile.
When last we met, Fate's unrelenting hand
Already grasp'd the devastating brand;
Slow crept the silent flame, ensnared its prize,
Then burst resistless to the astonish'd skies.
The glowing walls, disrobed of scenic pride,
In trembling conflict stemm'd the burning tide,
Till crackling, blazing, rocking to its fall,
Down rush'd the thundering roof, and buried all!