136
'Tis London!—God of mercy save
Her millions from their fiery grave!
Oh! grant the sons of wealth and crime,
Some short reprieve, some little time
For penitence and pray'r!
It may not be—the blaze is o'er;
The smould'ring ruins glare no more,
But long shall England's sorrows rise,
Widows and orphans pour the cries,
Of anguish and despair!
Her millions from their fiery grave!
Oh! grant the sons of wealth and crime,
Some short reprieve, some little time
For penitence and pray'r!
It may not be—the blaze is o'er;
The smould'ring ruins glare no more,
But long shall England's sorrows rise,
Widows and orphans pour the cries,
Of anguish and despair!
