Samuel Kettell, ed. Specimens of American Poetry. 1829.
By The Street Was a RuinRobert Treat Paine (1773–1811)
T
Illumined with terror the face of despair;
While houseless, bewailing,
Mute pity assailing,
A mother’s wild shrieks pierced the merciless air.
Beside her stood Edward, imploring each wind,
To wake his loved sister, who linger’d behind;
Awake, my poor Mary,
Oh! fly to me, Mary;
In the arms of your Edward, a pillow you ’ll find.
Crackling, between the parting rafters broke;
Through the rent seams the forked flames aspire,
All, all, is lost; the roof, the roof ’s on fire!
She scream’d as around her the flames fiercely blew;
Where art thou, mother?
Oh! fly to me, brother!
Ah! save your poor Mary, who lives but for you!
Leave not poor Mary,
Ah! save your poor Mary!
Her vision’d form descrying,
On wings of horror flying,
The youth erects his frantic gaze,
Then plunges in the maddening blaze!
Aloft he dauntless soars,
The flaming room explores;
The roof in cinders crushes,
Through tumbling walls he rushes!
She ’s safe from fear’s alarms;
She faints in Edward’s arms!
Thy simplest child can bravely dare.