"The pestilence came like a quenchless flame
On the breath of a poisonous wind;
You might reckon its force and track its course
By the ruin it left behind:
Nor beauty, nor youth, nor sex was spared--
Its imssion was still to slay!
From the desolate past
There cometh at last
The dawn of a brighter day."
(1852, November 27). The Illustrated London News.