269 O pass not, Lord, an absolute decree,
       Or bind thy sentence unconditional! 
     But in thy sentence our remorse foresee,
       And in that foresight this thy doom recall.

 270 Thy threatenings, Lord, as thine thou mayst revoke: 
       But if immutable and fix’d they stand,
     Continue still thyself to give the stroke,
       And let not foreign foes oppress thy land.

 271 The Eternal heard, and from the heavenly quire
       Chose out the cherub with the flaming sword;
     And bade him swiftly drive the approaching fire
       From where our naval magazines were stored.

 272 The blessed minister his wings display’d,
       And like a shooting star he cleft the night: 
     He charged the flames, and those that disobey’d
       He lash’d to duty with his sword of light.

 273 The fugitive flames chastised went forth to prey
       On pious structures, by our fathers rear’d;
     By which to heaven they did affect the way,
       Ere faith in churchmen without works was heard.

 274 The wanting orphans saw, with watery eyes,
       Their founder’s charity in dust laid low;
     And sent to God their ever-answered cries,
       For He protects the poor, who made them so.

 275 Nor could thy fabric, Paul’s, defend thee long,
       Though thou wert sacred to thy Maker’s praise: 
     Though made immortal by a poet’s song;
       And poets’ songs the Theban walls could raise.

 276 The daring flames peep’d in, and saw from far
       The awful beauties of the sacred quire: 
     But since it was profaned by civil war,
       Heaven thought it fit to have it purged by fire.

 277 Now down the narrow streets it swiftly came,
       And widely opening did on both sides prey: 
     This benefit we sadly owe the flame,
       If only ruin must enlarge our way.

 278 And now four days the sun had seen our woes: 
       Four nights the moon beheld the incessant fire: 
     It seem’d as if the stars more sickly rose,
       And farther from the feverish north retire.

 279 In th’ empyrean heaven, the bless’d abode,
       The Thrones and the Dominions prostrate lie,
     Not daring to behold their angry God;
       And a hush’d silence damps the tuneful sky.

 280 At length the Almighty cast a pitying eye,
       And mercy softly touch’d his melting breast: 
     He saw the town’s one half in rubbish lie,
       And eager flames drive on to storm the rest.

 281 An hollow crystal pyramid he takes,
       In firmamental waters dipt above;
     Of it a broad extinguisher he makes,
       And hoods the flames that to their quarry drove.

 282 The vanquish’d fires withdraw from every place,
       Or, full with feeding, sink into a sleep: 
     Each household genius shows again his face,
       And from the hearths the little Lares creep.