The habitations of all things which dwell, 
 Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed, 
 And men were gather’d round their blazing homes 
 To look once more into each other’s face; 
 Happy were those who dwelt within the eye 
 Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch: 
 A fearful hope was all the world contain’d; 
 Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour 
 They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks 
 Extinguish’d with a crash—and all was black. 
 The brows of men by the despairing light 
 Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits 
 The flashes fell upon them; some lay down 
 And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest 
 Their chins upon their clenchèd hands, and smiled;