Locks the chest and the wardrobe, with lavender smelling,
And the hum of the spindle goes quick through the dwelling;
And she hōards in the presses, well polished and full,
The snow of the liven, the shine of the wool;
Still intent upon use, while providing for show,
And never a rest from her cares doth she know.
Blithe the Master (where the while
From his roof he sees them smile)
Eyes the lands and counts the gain;
There, the beams projecting far,
And the laden storehouse are,
And the grănaries bowed beneath
The blessed golden grain;
There, in undulating motion,
Wave the corn-fields like an ocean.
Proud the boast the proud lips breathe:-
"My house is built upon a rock,
And sees unmoved the stormy shock
Of waves that fret below!"
Alas! for never mortal state
Can form perpetual truce with Fate!
Swift are the steps of Woe.
10. Now the casting may begin ;
See the breach indented there;
Ere we run the fusion in,
Halt-and speed the pious prayer!
Pull the plug out-see around and about
Through the bow of the handle the smoke rushes red.
God help us!-the flaming waves burst from their bed.-
What friend is like the might of fire,
When man can watch and wield the ire?
Whate'er we shape or work, we owe
Still to that heaven-descended glow.
But dread the heaven-descended glow,
When from their chain its wild wings go,
When, where it listèth, wide and wild,
Sweeps from free Nature's free-born child,
When the frantic one fleets,
While no force can withstand,
Through the populous streets
Whirling ghastly the brand;
For the Elements hate what man's labors create,
And the works of his hand.
11. Impartially out from the cloud,
Or the curse or the blessing may fall!
Benignantly out from the cloud
Come the dews, the revivers of all;
Avengingly out from the cloud
Come the leaven, the bolt, and the ball!
Hark-a wail from the steeple!-aloud
The bell shrills its voice to the crowd!
Look-look-red as blood
All on high;
It is not the daylight that fills with its flood
The sky!
What a clamor awaking
Roars up through the street;
What a hell-vapor breaking
Rolls on through the street,
And higher and higher
Aloft moves the column of fire!
Through the vistas and rows like a whirlwind it goes, And the air like the steam from a furnace glows.
12. Beams are crackling-posts are shrinking— Walls are sinking-windows clinkingChildren crying-mothers flying—
And the beast (the black ruin yet smoldering under)
Yells the howl of its pain and its ghastly wonder!
Hurry and skurry-away-away,
The face of the night is as clear as day!
As the links in a chain, again and again
Flies the bucket from hand to hand;
High in arches up-rushing the engines are gushing;
And down comes the storm with a roar!
And it chases the flames as they sōar.
To the grain and the fruits,
Through the rafters and beams,
Through the barns and the garners it crackles and streams!
As if they would rend up the earth from its roots,
Rush the flames to the sky giant-high;
Wearied out and despairing, man bows to their strength! With an idle gaze sees their wrath consume,
13. Desolate the place, and dread;
. For storms the barren bed.
In the blank voids that cheerful casements were,
Comes to and fro the melancholy air, and sits Despair;
And through the ruin, blackening in its shroud
Peers, as it flits, the melancholy cloud.
One human look of grief upon the grave
Of all that fortune gave,
The lingerer casts-then turns him to depart,
And grasps
the wanderer's staff and mans his heart;
Whatever else the element bereaves,
One blessing more than all it reft, it leaves-
The faces that he loves!-He counts them ō'er,
Not one dear look is missing from that store!
TOW clasped the bell within the clay-
The mold the mingled metals fill—
Oh, may it, sparkling into day,
Reward the labor and the skill!
Alas! should it fail, for the mold may be frail—
And still with our hope must be mingled the fear—
And even now, while we speak, the mishap may be near! To the dark womb of sacred earth
This labor of our hands is given,
As seeds that wait the second birth
And turn to blessings watched by heaven!
Ah, seeds, how dearer far than they
We bury in the dismal tomb,
Where Hope and Sorrow bend to pray
That suns beyond the realm of day
May warm them into bloom!
2. From the steeple tōlls the bell,
Deep and heavy, the death-knell !
Guiding with dirge note--solemn, sad, and slow,
To the last home earth's weary wanderers know.
It is that worshiped wife-it is that faithful mother!
Whom the dark Prince of Shadows leads benighted
From that dear arm where oft she hung delighted.
Far from those blithe companions, born
Of her, and blooming in their morn;
On whom, when couched her heart above,
So often looked the mother-love!
Ah! rent the sweet home's union-band,
And never, never more to come-
She dwells within the shadowy land,
Who was the mother of that home!
How oft they miss that tender guide,
The care-the watch-the face--the MOTHERAnd where she sat the babes beside,
Sits with unloving looks-ANOTHER!
S. While the mass is cooling now,
Let the weary labor rest;
Blithe as bird upon the bough,
Each to do as lists him best.
In the cool starry time, at the sweet vesper-chime,
The workman his task and his travail forgoes-
It is only the master that ne'er may repose!
4. Homeward from the tasks of day,
Through the greenwood's welcome way,
Wends the wanderer, light and cheerly,
To the cottage loved so dearly!
And the eye and ear are meeting,
Now, the slow sheep homeward bleating—
Now, the wonted shelter near,
Lowing the lusty-fronted steer;
Creaking now the heavy wain
Reels with the happy harvest grain.
While with many-colored leaves,
Glitters the garland on the sheaves;
For the mower's work is done,
And the young folks' dance begun!
Desert street and quiet mart;
Silence is in the city's heart;
And the social taper lightèth
Each dear face that HOME unitèth;
While the gate the town befōre
Heavily swings with sullen rōar!
5. Now darkness is spreading:
Now quenched is the light;
But the burgher, undreading,
Looks safe on the night-
Which the evil man watches in awe,
For the eye of the Night is the Law!-
Bliss-dowered! O daughter of the skies,
Hail, holy ORDER, whose employ
Blends like to like in light and joy—
Builder of cities, who of old
Called the wild man from waste and wold,
And, in his hut thy presence stealing,
Roused each familiar household feeling;
And, best of all the happy ties,
The center of the social band-
The Instinct of the Fatherland!
6. United thus, each helping each,
Brisk work the countless hands for ever!
For naught its power to Strength can teach,
Like Emulation and Endeavor!
Thus linked the master with the man
Each in his rights can each revere,
And while they march in freedom's van,
Scorn the lewd rout that dogs the rear!
To freemen labor is renown!
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