4. 
Tumult was in the soul of all beside,
Ill joy, or doubt, or fear; but those who saw
Their tranquil victim pass, felt wonder glide
Into their brain, and became calm with awe.—­ 4480
See, the slow pageant near the pile doth draw. 
A thousand torches in the spacious square,
Borne by the ready slaves of ruthless law,
Await the signal round:  the morning fair
Is changed to a dim night by that unnatural glare. 4485

5. 
And see! beneath a sun-bright canopy,
Upon a platform level with the pile,
The anxious Tyrant sit, enthroned on high,
Girt by the chieftains of the host; all smile
In expectation, but one child:  the while 4490
I, Laon, led by mutes, ascend my bier
Of fire, and look around:  each distant isle
Is dark in the bright dawn; towers far and near,
Pierce like reposing flames the tremulous atmosphere.

6. 
There was such silence through the host, as when 4495
An earthquake trampling on some populous town,
Has crushed ten thousand with one tread, and men
Expect the second; all were mute but one,
That fairest child, who, bold with love, alone
Stood up before the King, without avail, 4500
Pleading for Laon’s life—­her stifled groan
Was heard—­she trembled like one aspen pale
Among the gloomy pines of a Norwegian vale.

7. 
What were his thoughts linked in the morning sun,
Among those reptiles, stingless with delay, 4505
Even like a tyrant’s wrath?—­The signal-gun
Roared—­hark, again!  In that dread pause he lay
As in a quiet dream—­the slaves obey—­
A thousand torches drop,—­and hark, the last
Bursts on that awful silence; far away, 4510
Millions, with hearts that beat both loud and fast,
Watch for the springing flame expectant and aghast.

8. 
They fly—­the torches fall—­a cry of fear
Has startled the triumphant!—­they recede! 
For, ere the cannon’s roar has died, they hear 4515
The tramp of hoofs like earthquake, and a steed
Dark and gigantic, with the tempest’s speed,
Bursts through their ranks:  a woman sits thereon,
Fairer, it seems, than aught that earth can breed,
Calm, radiant, like the phantom of the dawn, 4520
A spirit from the caves of daylight wandering gone.

9. 
All thought it was God’s Angel come to sweep
The lingering guilty to their fiery grave;
The Tyrant from his throne in dread did leap,—­
Her innocence his child from fear did save; 4525
Scared by the faith they feigned, each priestly slave
Knelt for his mercy whom they served with blood,
And, like the refluence of a mighty wave
Sucked into the loud sea, the multitude
With crushing panic, fled in terror’s altered mood. 4530