Her words the accursed race obey’d;

Forth with a sound like rushing winds they fled,

And of all aid from Earth or Heaven bereft,

Alone with Arvalan the Maid was left.

But in that hour of agony, the Maid

Deserted not herself; her very dread

Had calm’d her; and her heart

Knew the whole horror, and its only part.

Yamen, receive me undefil’d! she said,

And seiz’d a torch, and fir’d the bridal bed.

Up ran the rapid flames; on every side

They find their fuel wheresoe’er they spread,

Thin hangings, fragrant gums, and odorous wood,

That pil’d like sacrificial altars stood.

Around they run, and upward they aspire,

And, lo! the huge Pagoda lin’d with fire.