Midnight, and yet no eye

Through all the Imperial City clos’d in sleep!

Behold her streets a-blaze

With light that seems to kindle the red sky,

Her myriads swarming through the crowded ways!

Master and slave, old age and infancy,

All, all abroad to gaze;

House-top and balcony

Clustered with women, who throw back their veils,

With unimpeded and insatiate sight

To view the funeral pomp which passes by,

As if the mournful rite

Were but to them a scene of joyance and delight.