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Museum of Wonder: Fire

At midnight is a cry heard! From below, Like brigand springing forth from ambuscade, Along the deck are darting flames, that grow Each moment mightier in their maddened raid, Flinging aloft vast smoke-clouds, and beneath Creeping with shrivelling touch and blasting breath. "Fire! Fire!" the cry has pierced through many a dream Of calm, sweet fancies, joined in many a rout Of horrible imaginings that stream Through troubled spirits; quickly the dread shout Has spread, and all-the weak beneath the strong Crushed pitilessly-in fierce wild tumult throng The bows, where yet the flame has come not-there, Huddling with shrieks and curses, women fall, Hiding their faces from the awful glare Of pillared fire behind them; others call Straight, swift, and sure, the steamer dashes on, With staggering plunge upon the bank she leaps, Then parts amidships-the wild race is won!

Man, woman, child, in safety each one creeps To the firm earth; but, as they touch the strand, John Maynard's soul has gained the better land!