37. 
’Ay, there is famine in the gulf of hell,
Its giant worms of fire for ever yawn.—­
Their lurid eyes are on us! those who fell
By the swift shafts of pestilence ere dawn, 4120
Are in their jaws! they hunger for the spawn
Of Satan, their own brethren, who were sent
To make our souls their spoil.  See! see! they fawn
Like dogs, and they will sleep with luxury spent,
When those detested hearts their iron fangs have rent! 4125

38. 
’Our God may then lull Pestilence to sleep:—­
Pile high the pyre of expiation now,
A forest’s spoil of boughs, and on the heap
Pour venomous gums, which sullenly and slow,
When touched by flame, shall burn, and melt, and flow, 4130
A stream of clinging fire,—­and fix on high
A net of iron, and spread forth below
A couch of snakes, and scorpions, and the fry
Of centipedes and worms, earth’s hellish progeny!

39. 
’Let Laon and Laone on that pyre, 4135
Linked tight with burning brass, perish!—­then pray
That, with this sacrifice, the withering ire
Of Heaven may be appeased.’  He ceased, and they
A space stood silent, as far, far away
The echoes of his voice among them died; 4140
And he knelt down upon the dust, alway
Muttering the curses of his speechless pride,
Whilst shame, and fear, and awe, the armies did divide.

40. 
His voice was like a blast that burst the portal
Of fabled hell; and as he spake, each one 4145
Saw gape beneath the chasms of fire immortal,
And Heaven above seemed cloven, where, on a throne
Girt round with storms and shadows, sate alone
Their King and Judge—­fear killed in every breast
All natural pity then, a fear unknown 4150
Before, and with an inward fire possessed,
They raged like homeless beasts whom burning woods invest.

41. 
’Twas morn.—­At noon the public crier went forth,
Proclaiming through the living and the dead,
’The Monarch saith, that his great Empire’s worth 4155
Is set on Laon and Laone’s head: 
He who but one yet living here can lead,
Or who the life from both their hearts can wring,
Shall be the kingdom’s heir—­a glorious meed! 
But he who both alive can hither bring, 4160
The Princess shall espouse, and reign an equal King.’

42. 
Ere night the pyre was piled, the net of iron
Was spread above, the fearful couch below;
It overtopped the towers that did environ
That spacious square; for Fear is never slow 4165
To build the thrones of Hate, her mate and foe;
So, she scourged forth the maniac multitude
To rear this pyramid—­tottering and slow,
Plague-stricken, foodless, like lean herds pursued
By gadflies, they have piled the heath, and gums, and wood. 4170