Houses falling, or laid quite prone,

Whilst some are scattered by the waves,

Like corpses left on battle-field

To rot. Headlong, Evjenie sped,

Scarce knowing why or where he rushed,

And ill forebodings weighed his heart.

And now he comes where fate awaits,

As with sealed letter n her hand.

The intervening space is passed,

With hastened step he nears the house:

But what is this he sees?

He stopped...

Retreated... and once more returned..

Bewildered gazed... went on... looked back.

Here is the place their house once stood,

And there the willow-tree. The gates

Here entrance barred. But where the house?

Thoughts of horror now possessed him,

As round and round he marched and stared.

While whirling words broke from his lips,

And with clenched fist his forehead struck,

And sudden shrieked with laughter loud.

Once more, the friendly shades of night

The city fearsome shroud, but few

Their couches sought, and long discussed

Among themselves, with bated breath,

That day of woe.

Clear morning's ray

From out the pale and wearied clouds

The fated city gleamed to cheer.

But few the traces were it found

Of past night's wreck. With purple pall

The ugly work of ill was hid,

And life resumed its wonted ways.