The Lay Of The Bell.

"Vivos voco Mortuos plango Fulgura frango." [44]      Fast, in its prison-walls of earth,      Awaits the mould of baked clay.      Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth      The bell that shall be born to-day!         Who would honor obtain,         With the sweat and the pain,     The praise that man gives to the master must buy.     But the blessing withal must descend from on high!      And well an earnest word beseems      The work the earnest hand prepares;      Its load more light the labor deems,      When sweet discourse the labor shares.      So let us ponder nor in vain      What strength can work when labor wills;      For who would not the fool disdain      Who ne'er designs what he fulfils?      And well it stamps our human race,      And hence the gift to understand,      That man within the heart should trace      Whate'er he fashions with the hand.      From the fir the fagot take,      Keep it, heap it hard and dry,      That the gathered flame may break      Through the furnace, wroth and high.         When the copper within         Seeths and simmers the tin,     Pour quick, that the fluid that feeds the bell     May flow in the right course glib and well.      Deep hid within this nether cell,      What force with fire is moulding thus,      In yonder airy tower shall dwell,      And witness wide and far of us!      It shall, in later days, unfailing,      Rouse many an ear to rapt emotion;      Its solemn voice with sorrow wailing,      Or choral chiming to devotion.      Whatever fate to man may bring,      Whatever weal or woe befall,      That metal tongue shall backward ring,      The warning moral drawn from all.      See the silvery bubbles spring!      Good! the mass is melting now!      Let the salts we duly bring      Purge the flood, and speed the flow.         From the dross and the scum,         Pure, the fusion must come;     For perfect and pure we the metal must keep,     That its voice may be perfect, and pure, and deep.      That voice, with merry music rife,      The cherished child shall welcome in;      What time the rosy dreams of life,      In the first slumber's arms begin.      As yet, in Time's dark womb unwarning,      Repose the days, or foul or fair;      And watchful o'er that golden morning,      The mother-love's untiring care!      And swift the years like arrows fly      No more with girls content to play,      Bounds the proud boy upon his way,      Storms through loud life's tumultuous pleasures,      With pilgrim staff the wide world measures;      And, wearied with the wish to roam,      Again seeks, stranger-like, the father-home.      And, lo, as some sweet vision breaks      Out from its native morning skies      With rosy shame on downcast cheeks,      The virgin stands before his eyes.      A nameless longing seizes him!      From all his wild compassions flown;      Tears, strange till then, his eyes bedim;      He wanders all alone.      Blushing, he glides where'er she move;      Her greeting can transport him;      To every mead to deck his love,      The happy wild flowers court him!      Sweet hope and tender longing ye      The growth of life's first age of gold;      When the heart, swelling, seems to see      The gates of heaven unfold!     O love, the beautiful and brief! O prime,     Glory, and verdure, of life's summer time!      Browning o'er, the pipes are simmering,      Dip this wand of clay [45] within;      If like glass the wand be glimmering,      Then the casting may begin.         Brisk, brisk now, and see         If the fusion flow free;     If (happy and welcome indeed were the sign!)     If the hard and the ductile united combine.     For still where the strong is betrothed to the weak,     And the stern in sweet marriage is blent with the meek,     Rings the concord harmonious, both tender and strong     So be it with thee, if forever united,     The heart to the heart flows in one, love-delighted;     Illusion is brief, but repentance is long.      Lovely, thither are they bringing.      With the virgin wreath, the bride!      To the love-feast clearly ringing,      Tolls the church-bell far and wide!      With that sweetest holiday,      Must the May of life depart;     With the cestus loosed away     Flies illusion from the heart!      Yet love lingers lonely,      When passion is mute,      And the blossoms may only      Give way to the fruit.      The husband must enter      The hostile life,      With struggle and strife      To plant or to watch.      To snare or to snatch,      To pray and importune,      Must wager and venture      And hunt down his fortune!     Then flows in a current the gear and the gain,     And the garners are filled with the gold of the grain,     Now a yard to the court, now a wing to the centre!         Within sits another,         The thrifty housewife;         The mild one, the mother         Her home is her life.         In its circle she rules,         And the daughters she schools         And she cautions the boys,         With a bustling command,         And a diligent hand         Employed she employs;         Gives order to store,         And the much makes the more;     Locks the chest and the wardrobe, with lavender smelling,     And the hum of the spindle goes quick through the dwelling;     And she hoards in the presses, well polished and full,     The snow of the linen, the shine of the wool;     Blends the sweet with the good, and from care and endeavor     Rests never!      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 granaries bowed beneath      The blessed golden grain;      There, in undulating motion,      Wave the cornfields 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!"      What chain so strong, what girth so great,      To bind the giant form of fate?      Swift are the steps of woe.      Now the casting may begin;      See the breach indented there:      Ere we run the fusion in,      Halt and speed the pious prayer!         Pull the bung out         See around and about     What vapor, what vapor God help us! has risen?     Ha! the flame like a torrent leaps forth from its prison!     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 listeth, wide and wild     Sweeps 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 element hates     What man's labor creates,     And the work of his hand!     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 levin, 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 stream from the furnace glows.     Beams are crackling posts are shrinking     Walls are sinking windows clinking         Children crying         Mothers flying     And the beast (the black ruin yet smouldering 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 the flood, as a beast on the prey that it hounds     With a roar on the breast of the element bounds.         To the grain and the fruits,         Through the rafters and beams,     Through the barns and garners it crackles and streams!     As if they would rend up the earth from its roots,         Rush the flames to the sky         Giant-high;     And at length,     Wearied out and despairing, man bows to their strength!     With an idle gaze sees their wrath consume,     And submits to his doom!         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 glance of grief upon the grave     Of all that fortune gave     The loiterer takes 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 o'er,     See not one look is missing from that store!     Now clasped the bell within the clay     The mould the mingled metals fill     Oh, may it, sparkling into day,     Reward the labor and the skill!         Alas! should it fail,         For the mould may be frail     And still with our hope must be mingled the fear     And, ev'n 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!         From the steeple          Tolls 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 worshipped wife         It is that faithful mother! [46]     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 mother     And where she sate the babes beside,     Sits with unloving looks another!      While the mass is cooling now,         Let the labor yield to leisure,      As the bird upon the bough,         Loose the travail to the pleasure.      When the soft stars awaken,      Each task be forsaken!     And the vesper-bell lulling the earth into peace,     If the master still toil, chimes the workman's release!     Homeward from the tasks of day,     Through the greenwood's welcome way     Wends the wanderer, blithe 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 lighteth;     Each dear face that home uniteth;     While the gate the town before     Heavily swings with sullen roar!      Though darkness is spreading      O'er earth the upright      And the honest, undreading,      Look 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 centre of the social band,      The instinct of the Fatherland!     United thus each helping each,     Brisk work the countless hands forever;     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!     Who works gives blessings and commands;     Kings glory in the orb and crown     Be ours the glory of our hands.     Long in these walls long may we greet     Your footfalls, peace and concord sweet!     Distant the day, oh! distant far,     When the rude hordes of trampling war     Shall scare the silent vale;      And where,      Now the sweet heaven, when day doth leave      The air,      Limns its soft rose-hues on the veil of eve;     Shall the fierce war-brand tossing in the gale,     From town and hamlet shake the horrent glare!      Now, its destined task fulfilled,      Asunder break the prison-mould;      Let the goodly bell we build,      Eye and heart alike behold.         The hammer down heave,         Till the cover it cleave:     For not till we shatter the wall of its cell     Can we lift from its darkness and bondage the bell.     To break the mould, the master may,      If skilled the hand and ripe the hour;     But woe, when on its fiery way      The metal seeks itself to pour.     Frantic and blind, with thunder-knell,      Exploding from its shattered home,     And glaring forth, as from a hell,      Behold the red destruction come!     When rages strength that has no reason,     There breaks the mould before the season;     When numbers burst what bound before,     Woe to the state that thrives no more!     Yea, woe, when in the city's heart,      The latent spark to flame is blown;     And millions from their silence start,      To claim, without a guide, their own!     Discordant howls the warning bell,      Proclaiming discord wide and far,     And, born but things of peace to tell,      Becomes the ghastliest voice of war:     "Freedom! Equality!" to blood      Rush the roused people at the sound!     Through street, hall, palace, roars the flood,      And banded murder closes round!     The hyena-shapes (that women were!),      Jest with the horrors they survey;     They hound they rend they mangle there      As panthers with their prey!     Naught rests to hollow burst the ties      Of life's sublime and reverent awe;     Before the vice the virtue flies,      And universal crime is law!     Man fears the lion's kingly tread;      Man fears the tiger's fangs of terror;     And still the dreadliest of the dread,      Is man himself in error!     No torch, though lit from heaven, illumes      The blind! Why place it in his hand?     It lights not him it but consumes      The city and the land!      Rejoice and laud the prospering skies!      The kernel bursts its husk behold      From the dull clay the metal rise,      Pure-shining, as a star of gold!         Neck and lip, but as one beam,         It laughs like a sunbeam.     And even the scutcheon, clear-graven, shall tell     That the art of a master has fashioned the bell!     Come in come in     My merry men we'll form a ring     The new-born labor christening;      And "Concord" we will name her!     To union may her heartfelt call     In brother-love attune us all!     May she the destined glory win      For which the master sought to frame her     Aloft (all earth's existence under),     In blue-pavillioned heaven afar     To dwell the neighbor of the thunder,     The borderer of the star!     Be hers above a voice to rise     Like those bright hosts in yonder sphere,     Who, while they move, their Maker praise,     And lead around the wreathed year!     To solemn and eternal things     We dedicate her lips sublime!     As hourly, calmly, on she swings     Fanned by the fleeting wings of time!     No pulse no heart no feeling hers!     She lends the warning voice to fate;     And still companions, while she stirs,     The changes of the human state!     So may she teach us, as her tone     But now so mighty, melts away     That earth no life which earth has known     From the last silence can delay!      Slowly now the cords upheave her!      From her earth-grave soars the bell;      Mid the airs of heaven we leave her!      In the music-realm to dwell!         Up upwards yet raise         She has risen she sways.     Fair bell to our city bode joy and increase,     And oh, may thy first sound be hallowed to peace! [47]