Then the earth rocked as though it would swallow one up;
With fuel from Hell, a strange coal-scuttle came,
And a self-handled poker made fearful the flame.
A cinder shot from it, of size to amaze,
With a bounce, such as Betty ne’er heard in her days,
Thrice, serpent-like, hissed as its heat fled away,
And, lo! something dark in a vast coffin lay!
“Come, Betty,” quoth croaking that nondescript thing,
“Come, bless the fond arms of your true Cinder-King!
Three more Kings, my brothers, are waiting to greet ye,