Had sought escape in open sea,

Till 'gainst the storm's mad rage to strive

She ceased, her strength completely broke.

At morn, along the river's shores,

The people thronged and watched with awe

The angrily splash, the high-tossed foam,

And crested tops of heaving waves.

But stronger roared, with scream and wail,

The furious blast that river forced

Retreat, and break its confines low,

And drown the isles beneath its waves.

More fiercely still the storm-winds raged,

Insulted Neva shrieked with pain,

Its waters boiled and thundered high,

And, like wild beast escaped from cage.

Its ruin wide o'er city spread.

Before it fled the crowds, and all

Was one waste sea. The waters poured,

And forced their way through cellar-caves,

Beat down the rails of each canal,

Till Petropol, like Triton, stood

Plunged deep, breast-high, in ocean's storm.

As in a leaguered town, the waves,

Like thieves, through windows burst, and sterns

Of boats in shivers broke the panes;

The awnings frail of fish-barks drenched,

The roofs and wreck of ruined homes,

The shopman's unsold stores and stock,

The year's hard savings of the poor,

The bridges from their moorings wrenched,

And coffins loose from churchyards torn,

Swam down the streets.

The maddened folk

In ruin's work God's wrath beheld,