Then hand in hand the victim band

Roll in the dance around the funeral pyre;

Their garments’ flying folds

Float inward to the fire.

In drunken whirl they wheel around;

One drops, . . . another plunges in;

And still with overwhelming din

The tambours and the trumpets sound;

And clap of hand, and shouts, and cries,

From all the multitude arise:

While round and round, in giddy wheel,

Intoxicate they roll and reel,

Till one by one whirl’d in they fall,

And the devouring flames have swallowed all.