He feasted well in Moscow—in the city of the Tsar—
When 'fore the northern streamers paled Napoleon's lurid star:
Around the hoary Kremlin, where Moscow once had stood,
He pass'd, and left a heap behind, of ashes slaked in blood!
He feasted once in London—he feasted best of all—
When through the close-packed city, he swept from wall to wall:
Even as of old the wrath of God came down in fiery rain,
On Sodom and Gomorrha, on the Cities of the Plain!