Sad Moscow, thy fate do I see, <br />Fire! fire! in the city all cry; <br />Like quails from the eagle all flee, <br />Escape in a moment or die. <br /> <br />It looks like the battle of Troy, <br />The storm rises higher and higher; <br />The scene of destruction all hearts must annoy, <br />The whirlwinds, the smoke, and the fire. <br /> <br />The dread conflagration rolls forth, <br />Augmenting the rage of the wind, <br />Which blows it from south unto north, <br />And leaves but the embers behind. <br /> <br />It looks like Gomorrah; the flame <br />Is moving still nigher and nigher, <br />Aloud from all quarters the people proclaim, <br />The whirlwinds, the smoke, and the fire. <br /> <br />A dead fumigation now swells, <br />A blue circle darkens the air, <br />With tones as the pealing of bells, <br />Farewell to the brave and the fair. <br /> <br />O Moscow, thou city of grace, <br />Consign'd to a dread burning pyre, <br />From morning to ev'ning with sorrow I trace <br />The wild winds, the smoke, and the fire. <br /> <br />The dogs in the kennel all howl, <br />The wether takes flight with the ox, <br />Appal'd on the wing is the fowl, <br />The pigeon deserting her box. <br /> <br />With a heart full of pain, in the night <br />Mid hillocks and bogs I retire, <br />Through lone, deadly vallies I steer by its light, <br />The wild storm, the smoke, and the fire. <br /> <br />Though far the crash breaks on my ear, <br />The stars glimmer dull in the sky, <br />The shrieks of the women I hear, <br />The fall of the kingdom is nigh. <br /> <br />heaven, when earth is no more, <br />And all things in nature expire, <br />May I thus, with safety, keep distant before <br />The whirlwinds, the smoke, and the fire.<br /><br />George Moses Horton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-retreat-from-moscow-2/
