Dread was the scene o'er which the Fire King laughed As he his bowl of frantic pleasure quaffed, Whilst the doomed structure tottered in the girth Of his wild, bellowing, satanic mirth. Strong men and feeble women, young and old, Statesmen, financiers, and warriors bold, Who were a short hour since elate with pride. Now charred and calcined, slumber side by side. The fierce insatiate fire-fiend raging flew In wild demoniac rage the structure through, Tearing down rafters, hurling to the ground, Props, pillars roof-beams with appalling sound. Oh! what a scene of strife raged wildly there, 'Mid cries for help and struggles of despair; All human efforts powerless to assuage, The greedy fire-fiend's devastating rage. The fiery monster dashed away all trace, Of that late mimic world of beauteous grace, Swallowing in a fleet, wrathful breath of rage, All the vain baubles of the tinseled stage. All the wild tumult has subsided now, Hushed is the pleading prayer and woe strung vow, Breathed by fond parents, brothers, husbands, wives Of near three hundred late exultant lives! Then, as the demon's rage was well nigh spent, He o'er the drenched and trampled corses bent, Effacing as he best could, every trace Of recognition from each ghastly face. Drunken and gorged the sated fire-fiend spread His gloomy sable shroud about the dead, And left the fort he could not longer hold Conquered by man's heroic efforts bold. Too painful 'twould be to prolong the tale, Of that which followed, or the piteous wail Of friends bereaved, who sought with harrowing dread, To single out their loved ones from the dead. Close we, by urging those in power to do What well becomes all rulers wise and true, To make new laws, enforced by vigorous means, To spare all repetition of such scenes. Oft will Columbia sing to future time,