Chapter VIII

And there, in the terrible city,
The panic-struck, terror-crazed city,
The flying and flame-pursued city,
The torch of the North and the West,

A beautiful maiden lay moaning, as many a day she had lain,
In fetters of wearisome weakness, and throbbings of pitiful pain.
The amorous Fire-king came to her--he breathed his hot breath on
her cheek;
She fled from his touch, but he caught her, and held her, all
pulseless and weak.
The Fire-king he caught her and held her, in warm and unyielding
embrace;
He wrapped her about in his vestments, he pressed his hot lips to her
face;
Then, sated and palled with his triumph, he scornfully flung her away,
And, blackened and crushed in the ruins, unknown and uncoffined, she
lay--
Lay, blackened and crushed by the Fire-king, in ruined and desolate
rest,
Like ravished and ruined Chicago, the Queen of the North and the West.