 | Italy and Other Poems |  |
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THE LAY OF THE BELL.
“The most original and beautiful, perhaps, of all Schiller's
poems, unequalled by any thing of Goëthe's, is called ‘The
Song of the Bell,’—a varying, irregular, lyric strain. The casting
of a bell, is, in Germany, an event of solemnity and rejoicing. In
the neighbourbood of the Hartz, and the other mine districts, you
read formal announcements in the newspapers from bell-founders,
that at a given time and spot a casting is to take place, to which
they invite all their friends. An entertainment out of doors is
prepared, and held with much festivity. Schiller, in a few short
stanzas, forming a sort of chorus, describes the whole process of
melting, the casting, and the cooling of the Bell, with a technical
truth and a felicity of expression, in which the sound of the sharp
sonorous rhymes, and expressive epithets, constantly forms an
echo to the sense. Between these technical processes he breaks
forth into the most beautiful episodiac pictures of the various
scenes of life with which the sounds of the Bell are connected.
”
Vivos voso.—Mortuos plango.—Fulgura frangc.
Fast immur'd within the earth,
Fixt by fire the clay mould stands,
This day the Bell expects its birth:
Courage, comrades! ply your hands!
Comrades! ceaseless from your brow,
Ceaseless must the sweat-drop flow:
If by his work the master known,
Yet—heav'n must send the blessing down.
Fixt by fire the clay mould stands,
This day the Bell expects its birth:
Courage, comrades! ply your hands!
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Ceaseless must the sweat-drop flow:
If by his work the master known,
Yet—heav'n must send the blessing down.
The work we earnestly prepare,—
May well an earnest word demand:
When cheering words attend our care,
Gay the labour, brisk the hand.
Then let us weigh with deep reflection,
What by mere force must be achiev'd;
And rightly scorn his misdirection,
Whose foresight ne'er his work conceiv'd.
'Tis this that human nature graces,
This, gifted reason's destin'd aim,
That first the spirit inly traces,
What the skill'd hand shall after frame.
May well an earnest word demand:
When cheering words attend our care,
Gay the labour, brisk the hand.
Then let us weigh with deep reflection,
What by mere force must be achiev'd;
And rightly scorn his misdirection,
Whose foresight ne'er his work conceiv'd.
'Tis this that human nature graces,
This, gifted reason's destin'd aim,
That first the spirit inly traces,
What the skill'd hand shall after frame.
Billets of the fir-wood take,
Every billet dry and sound;
That flame on gather'd flame awake,
And vault with fire the furnace round.
Quickly cast the copper in,
Quickly cast due weight of tin,
That the Bell's tenacious food
Rightly flow in order'd mood.
Every billet dry and sound;
That flame on gather'd flame awake,
And vault with fire the furnace round.
Quickly cast the copper in,
Quickly cast due weight of tin,
That the Bell's tenacious food
Rightly flow in order'd mood.
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What now within the earth's deep womb
Our hands by help of fire prepare,
Shall on yon turret mark our doom
And loudly to the world declare!
There its aërial station keeping,
Touch many an ear to latest time;
Shall mingle with the mourner's weeping,
And tune to holy choirs its chime.
All that to earth-born sons below
The changeful turns of fortune bring,
The Bell from its metallic brow
In warning sounds shall widely ring.
Our hands by help of fire prepare,
Shall on yon turret mark our doom
And loudly to the world declare!
There its aërial station keeping,
Touch many an ear to latest time;
Shall mingle with the mourner's weeping,
And tune to holy choirs its chime.
All that to earth-born sons below
The changeful turns of fortune bring,
The Bell from its metallic brow
In warning sounds shall widely ring.
Lo! I see white bubbles spring:—
Well!—the molten masses flow.
Haste, ashes of the salt-wort fling,
Quick'ning the fusion deep below.
Yet from scoria clear and free
Must the liquid mixture be,
That from the metal, clean and clear,
Its sound swell tuneful on the ear.
Well!—the molten masses flow.
Haste, ashes of the salt-wort fling,
Quick'ning the fusion deep below.
Yet from scoria clear and free
Must the liquid mixture be,
That from the metal, clean and clear,
Its sound swell tuneful on the ear.
Hark! 'tis the birth-day's festive ringing!
It welcomes the beloved child,
Who now life's earliest way beginning,
In sleep's soft arm lies meek and mild.
As yet in time's dark lap repose,
Life's sunshine lot, and shadowy woes,
While tenderest cares of mothers born
Watch o'er her infant's golden morn.
The years like winged arrows fly:
The stripling from the female hand
Bursts into life all wild to roam;
And wandering far o'er sea and land,
Returns a stranger home.
There, in her bloom divinely fair,
An image beaming from the sky,
With blushing cheek and modest air
A virgin charms his eye.
A nameless longing melts his heart,
Far from his comrades' revels rude,
While tears involuntary start,
He strays in pathless solitude,—
Then, blushing, seeks alone her trace;
And if a smile his suit approve,
He seeks the prime of all the place,
The fairest flower to deck his love.—
Enchanting hope! thou sweet desire!
Thou earliest love! thou golden time!
Heav'n opens to thy glance of fire,
The heart o'erflows with bliss sublime.
Oh that it might eternal prove
The vernal bloom of youthful love!
It welcomes the beloved child,
Who now life's earliest way beginning,
In sleep's soft arm lies meek and mild.
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Life's sunshine lot, and shadowy woes,
While tenderest cares of mothers born
Watch o'er her infant's golden morn.
The years like winged arrows fly:
The stripling from the female hand
Bursts into life all wild to roam;
And wandering far o'er sea and land,
Returns a stranger home.
There, in her bloom divinely fair,
An image beaming from the sky,
With blushing cheek and modest air
A virgin charms his eye.
A nameless longing melts his heart,
Far from his comrades' revels rude,
While tears involuntary start,
He strays in pathless solitude,—
Then, blushing, seeks alone her trace;
And if a smile his suit approve,
He seeks the prime of all the place,
The fairest flower to deck his love.—
Enchanting hope! thou sweet desire!
Thou earliest love! thou golden time!
Heav'n opens to thy glance of fire,
The heart o'erflows with bliss sublime.
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The vernal bloom of youthful love!
See! the pipes are browning over!
This little rod I inly dip;
If coated there with glassy cover,
Let not the time of fusion slip.
Now, companions!—briskly move,
Now, the happy mixture prove.
If each alike, in one design,
The brittle and the ductile join.
This little rod I inly dip;
If coated there with glassy cover,
Let not the time of fusion slip.
Now, companions!—briskly move,
Now, the happy mixture prove.
If each alike, in one design,
The brittle and the ductile join.
For where strength with softness joins,
Where force with tenderness combines,
Firm the union, sweet the song.
Thus, ere thou wed no more to part,
Prove first if heart unite with heart:
The dream is brief, repentance long.
Sweet, 'mid the tresses of the bride,
Blooms the virgin coronal,
When merry bells ring far and wide
Kind welcome to the festival.
Ah, that life's fairest festive day
Fades with the blossom of our May!
That when the veil and cestus fall,
The sweet illusions vanish, all!—
Where force with tenderness combines,
Firm the union, sweet the song.
Thus, ere thou wed no more to part,
Prove first if heart unite with heart:
The dream is brief, repentance long.
Sweet, 'mid the tresses of the bride,
Blooms the virgin coronal,
When merry bells ring far and wide
Kind welcome to the festival.
Ah, that life's fairest festive day
Fades with the blossom of our May!
That when the veil and cestus fall,
The sweet illusions vanish, all!—
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The passion,—it flies,
The love must endure:
The blossom,—it dies,
The fruit must mature.
Forth the husband must wend
To the combat of life;
Plunge in turmoil and strife:
Must plant, and must plan;
Gain, get as he can:
Hazard all, all importune
To woo and win fortune.
Then streams, like a spring-flood, his wealth without measure,
And his granaries groan with the weight of their treasure;
And his farm-yards increase, and his mansion expands.
The love must endure:
The blossom,—it dies,
The fruit must mature.
Forth the husband must wend
To the combat of life;
Plunge in turmoil and strife:
Must plant, and must plan;
Gain, get as he can:
Hazard all, all importune
To woo and win fortune.
Then streams, like a spring-flood, his wealth without measure,
And his granaries groan with the weight of their treasure;
And his farm-yards increase, and his mansion expands.
Now the housewife within
Her course must begin;
Nurse, mother, and wife
Share the troubles of life;
Discreetly severe
Rule all in her sphere;
Give each maiden employ,
Watch each troublesome boy.
With orderly care,
Keep all in repair;
And store without ceasing
Her riches increasing:
Fill her sweet-scented coffers; and, restlessly twirling,
Set each spindle a spinning, each wheel ever whirling!
And in smooth polish'd wardrobes range row above row,
Her woollen all radiant, her linen all snow;
And trim them, and pranck them, and fashion them ever,
And rest—never.—
Her course must begin;
Nurse, mother, and wife
Share the troubles of life;
Discreetly severe
Rule all in her sphere;
Give each maiden employ,
Watch each troublesome boy.
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Keep all in repair;
And store without ceasing
Her riches increasing:
Fill her sweet-scented coffers; and, restlessly twirling,
Set each spindle a spinning, each wheel ever whirling!
And in smooth polish'd wardrobes range row above row,
Her woollen all radiant, her linen all snow;
And trim them, and pranck them, and fashion them ever,
And rest—never.—
The father now, with deep delight,
From his proud seat's wide seeing roof,
Sums up the wealth that feasts his sight;
The branching columns that support
The loaded barns rang'd round the court;
Granaries, that with corn o'erflow,
And harvests billowing to and fro:
And deems, fond man! that, propt on gain,
Like pillars that the globe sustain,
His house in glory shall withstand
Misfortune's rough and ruthless hand.
But—none—no mortal can detain
Fate in adamantine chain.
Mischance with hurried foot advances.
From his proud seat's wide seeing roof,
Sums up the wealth that feasts his sight;
The branching columns that support
The loaded barns rang'd round the court;
Granaries, that with corn o'erflow,
And harvests billowing to and fro:
And deems, fond man! that, propt on gain,
Like pillars that the globe sustain,
His house in glory shall withstand
Misfortune's rough and ruthless hand.
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Fate in adamantine chain.
Mischance with hurried foot advances.
'Tis time.—Now, now begin the fusion:
The crevice now yields promise fair.
Yet, pause—nor hasten the conclusion,
Till heaven has heard our pious pray'r.
Haste,—now push the stopper out,
Saints! now watch the house about.
Smoking in the handle's bow,
Shoot the waves that darkly glow.
The crevice now yields promise fair.
Yet, pause—nor hasten the conclusion,
Till heaven has heard our pious pray'r.
Haste,—now push the stopper out,
Saints! now watch the house about.
Smoking in the handle's bow,
Shoot the waves that darkly glow.
Beneficent the fire, whose flame
The pow'r of man can watch and tame;
When all, whate'er he forms and makes,
From heav'n's kind gift perfection takes.
But terrible this gift of heav'n,
When bursting forth, its fetters riv'n,
This free-born child of nature free
Issues in random liberty.
Woe—woe—when loose, without controul,
Gathering fresh force to feed their ire,
On thro' the populous cities roll
Sheeted flames of living fire!
The pow'r of man can watch and tame;
When all, whate'er he forms and makes,
From heav'n's kind gift perfection takes.
But terrible this gift of heav'n,
When bursting forth, its fetters riv'n,
This free-born child of nature free
Issues in random liberty.
Woe—woe—when loose, without controul,
Gathering fresh force to feed their ire,
On thro' the populous cities roll
Sheeted flames of living fire!
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The elements, unpitying, hate
Whate'er the hands of man create.
From the clouds
Blessings flow,
Rain streams below;
From the clouds,
Here and there,
Lightnings glare.
Heard you yon turret moan from high?
Storm is nigh,
Red as blood
The heav'n's suffusion;
'Tis not daylight's glowing flood.
What confusion!
Clouds of smoke
The dark streets choke;
Flaring mounts up higher and higher,
Through lengthen'd streets, the pillar'd fire,
Borne before the wild wind's ire.
The flame as from a furnace streams
Glows the ether, crack the beams;
Mothers wandering, children moaning,
Cattle under ruins groaning,
Windows clattering, pillars crushing,
All for safety wildly rushing,
This way, that way, twisting, turning,
Midnight like the noon-day burning,
Hand to hand, a lengthen'd chain,
How they strain!
Fly the buckets; flood and fountain
Burst in liquid arches mounting;
The howling tempest on its course
Gives to the flames resistless force:
The fire-flood through each granary streams,
And blazes o'er the rafter'd beams;
And, as if the self-same hour
Would earth and all its growth devour,
To heav'n it rears its tow'ring flight,
Giant high!
Hopelessly
Beneath its godlike strength man bows the head:
And, as his treasures sink and sunder,
Beholds the ruins round him spread
In idle wonder—
Consum'd by flame,
One waste the place;
Nought but the storm there leaves a trace.
In the wide casement's vacancy
Dire horrors brood;
And clouds that sweep aloft the sky
Look on its solitude.
One look—one last—
On that earth-womb:
His treasure's tomb:
One lingering look—'tis o'er—tis past—
He grasps his staff—the world has room—
The raging flame not all has reft
One heartfelt solace yet is left;
He numbers those belov'd the most,—
Of those, so lov'd, not one is lost.
Whate'er the hands of man create.
From the clouds
Blessings flow,
Rain streams below;
From the clouds,
Here and there,
Lightnings glare.
Heard you yon turret moan from high?
Storm is nigh,
Red as blood
The heav'n's suffusion;
'Tis not daylight's glowing flood.
What confusion!
Clouds of smoke
The dark streets choke;
Flaring mounts up higher and higher,
Through lengthen'd streets, the pillar'd fire,
Borne before the wild wind's ire.
The flame as from a furnace streams
Glows the ether, crack the beams;
Mothers wandering, children moaning,
Cattle under ruins groaning,
Windows clattering, pillars crushing,
All for safety wildly rushing,
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Midnight like the noon-day burning,
Hand to hand, a lengthen'd chain,
How they strain!
Fly the buckets; flood and fountain
Burst in liquid arches mounting;
The howling tempest on its course
Gives to the flames resistless force:
The fire-flood through each granary streams,
And blazes o'er the rafter'd beams;
And, as if the self-same hour
Would earth and all its growth devour,
To heav'n it rears its tow'ring flight,
Giant high!
Hopelessly
Beneath its godlike strength man bows the head:
And, as his treasures sink and sunder,
Beholds the ruins round him spread
In idle wonder—
Consum'd by flame,
One waste the place;
Nought but the storm there leaves a trace.
In the wide casement's vacancy
Dire horrors brood;
And clouds that sweep aloft the sky
Look on its solitude.
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On that earth-womb:
His treasure's tomb:
One lingering look—'tis o'er—tis past—
He grasps his staff—the world has room—
The raging flame not all has reft
One heartfelt solace yet is left;
He numbers those belov'd the most,—
Of those, so lov'd, not one is lost.
All prosp'rous seems beneath the earth,
Full and kindly fill'd the mould:
But will the day that views its birth,
What crowns our toil and art behold?
If the fusion haply fail!—
If at last the mould prove frail!—
Ah! while Hope's bright sunbeams glow,
Fate has already wrought the woe!
Full and kindly fill'd the mould:
But will the day that views its birth,
What crowns our toil and art behold?
If the fusion haply fail!—
If at last the mould prove frail!—
Ah! while Hope's bright sunbeams glow,
Fate has already wrought the woe!
To the dark lap of holy earth
We trust the unaccomplish'd deed:
The sower fearless trusts his seed,
In hope to gather in the birth
At the blest time by heav'n decreed.
And far more precious seed concealing,
We mournful hide in earth's dark womb,
In hope that God, the grave unsealing,
Revive it, grac'd with brighter bloom.
From the dome,
Sad and slow,
Tolls the Bell,
The song of woe;—
Its sad, its solemn strokes attend
A wanderer to his journey's end.
We trust the unaccomplish'd deed:
The sower fearless trusts his seed,
In hope to gather in the birth
At the blest time by heav'n decreed.
And far more precious seed concealing,
We mournful hide in earth's dark womb,
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Revive it, grac'd with brighter bloom.
From the dome,
Sad and slow,
Tolls the Bell,
The song of woe;—
Its sad, its solemn strokes attend
A wanderer to his journey's end.
Ah! 'tis the dear one—'tis the wife!
'Tis the belov'd, the loving mother!
Who by the prince of darkness borne,
From her fond husband's arms is torn,—
Torn from each tender child away
She bore him in her bloom of day,—
Those who had grown upon her breast,
By love—a mother's love—carest.
Ah! the household's gentle band
Is loos'd for ever—evermore;
She dwells within the shadowy land
Whose fondness hung that household o'er.
Now ceas'd her zealous occupation,
None her kindness more shall prove;
O'er that wide waste, that orphan station,
A stranger rules devoid of love.
While the Bell is cooling, rest,
Rest, from toil and trouble free;
Each, as fits his fancy best,
Sport like bird at liberty.
If but peep a star in air,
The man devoid of troublous care
At vesper chime from labour ceases:
No hour the master's care releases.
'Tis the belov'd, the loving mother!
Who by the prince of darkness borne,
From her fond husband's arms is torn,—
Torn from each tender child away
She bore him in her bloom of day,—
Those who had grown upon her breast,
By love—a mother's love—carest.
Ah! the household's gentle band
Is loos'd for ever—evermore;
She dwells within the shadowy land
Whose fondness hung that household o'er.
Now ceas'd her zealous occupation,
None her kindness more shall prove;
O'er that wide waste, that orphan station,
A stranger rules devoid of love.
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Rest, from toil and trouble free;
Each, as fits his fancy best,
Sport like bird at liberty.
If but peep a star in air,
The man devoid of troublous care
At vesper chime from labour ceases:
No hour the master's care releases.
Quickly with unwearied paces
The wanderer in wild woods afar
Seeks his household roof's embraces;
Bleating, homeward draw the sheep:
Herds and cows,
Sleek their hides, and broad their brows,
Come back lowing,
Each his wonted manger knowing.
Charg'd with grain
In rocks the wain,
Harvest laden:
With gay leaves,
On the sheaves,
Garlands lie;
While to the dance the youthful mowers
Briskly fly.
Street and market hush their speaking;
The householders, when day decays,
Gather round their blissful blaze;
And the town-gate closes creaking.
Earth with clouds is darken'd over;
Yet underneath his roof's safe cover,
The peaceful burgher dreads not night,
Which wakes the wicked with affright,
While Law's keen eye ne'er rests its sight.
The wanderer in wild woods afar
Seeks his household roof's embraces;
Bleating, homeward draw the sheep:
Herds and cows,
Sleek their hides, and broad their brows,
Come back lowing,
Each his wonted manger knowing.
Charg'd with grain
In rocks the wain,
Harvest laden:
With gay leaves,
On the sheaves,
Garlands lie;
While to the dance the youthful mowers
Briskly fly.
Street and market hush their speaking;
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Gather round their blissful blaze;
And the town-gate closes creaking.
Earth with clouds is darken'd over;
Yet underneath his roof's safe cover,
The peaceful burgher dreads not night,
Which wakes the wicked with affright,
While Law's keen eye ne'er rests its sight.
Holy Order! rich in blessing;
Heavenly daughter! whose caressing
To social bonds free man endears:
Thou whose base the city rears;
Thou, who from the wild and wood
Call'd'st the unsocial savage brood,
To roofs that bind the household tie,
And sooth the soul with courtesy!
Hail, Thou that weav'st the dearest band,
The union of a Father-land!
Heavenly daughter! whose caressing
To social bonds free man endears:
Thou whose base the city rears;
Thou, who from the wild and wood
Call'd'st the unsocial savage brood,
To roofs that bind the household tie,
And sooth the soul with courtesy!
Hail, Thou that weav'st the dearest band,
The union of a Father-land!
A thousand busy hands in motion
Each to each its aid imparts,
And in brotherly devotion
Adds strength and grace to all the arts.
Man and master in their station,
In Freedom's holy safeguard rest;
And in joyful occupation
Laugh to scorn the scorner's jest.
Work!—'tis the burgher's exaltation,—
A blessing rests on labour's head:
Honour the king who rules the nation,
Honour the hand that earns its bread.
Each to each its aid imparts,
And in brotherly devotion
Adds strength and grace to all the arts.
Man and master in their station,
In Freedom's holy safeguard rest;
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Laugh to scorn the scorner's jest.
Work!—'tis the burgher's exaltation,—
A blessing rests on labour's head:
Honour the king who rules the nation,
Honour the hand that earns its bread.
Holy Peace!
Concord sweet!
Remain, remain:
O'er this region kindly reign.
Never may that day arise
When war's rough plund'rers shall assail,
And violate this peaceful vale!
Never may those lovely skies,
Which roseate eve's soft colours faint
Lovelily paint,
View on the blissful village roof
The battle beacon flame aloof!
Concord sweet!
Remain, remain:
O'er this region kindly reign.
Never may that day arise
When war's rough plund'rers shall assail,
And violate this peaceful vale!
Never may those lovely skies,
Which roseate eve's soft colours faint
Lovelily paint,
View on the blissful village roof
The battle beacon flame aloof!
Break me the mould: its due employment
Now done, no more its aid we need.
Let heart and eye in full enjoyment,
On the well-form'd image feed.
Swing, the heavy hammers swing,
Till the cover duly spring.
When the earth the bell releases,
The mould may split in thousand pieces.
Now done, no more its aid we need.
Let heart and eye in full enjoyment,
On the well-form'd image feed.
Swing, the heavy hammers swing,
Till the cover duly spring.
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The mould may split in thousand pieces.
The master breaks the mould in pieces,
And timely frees the precious charge;
But woe—if, as the flame increases,
The glowing metal stream at large.
Blind-raging with the roar of thunder,
Forth from its riv'n cell it rushes;
And, as from hell-jaws burst asunder,
Destruction with the fire-flood gushes.
And timely frees the precious charge;
But woe—if, as the flame increases,
The glowing metal stream at large.
Blind-raging with the roar of thunder,
Forth from its riv'n cell it rushes;
And, as from hell-jaws burst asunder,
Destruction with the fire-flood gushes.
Where senseless force misrules at pleasure,
No form comes forth in rule and measure—
When nations burst the social band,
Ill fares it with the ravag'd land.
Ah! woe! when in the city's slumber,
By stealth a spark of fire gains force;
Woe! when the mob's unfetter'd number
Finds in itself its sole resource.
Then—Uproar, to the bell ropes springing,
Spreads far and wide the dread alarm;
And where Peace hail'd its joyful ringing,
Its signal bids the city arm.
No form comes forth in rule and measure—
When nations burst the social band,
Ill fares it with the ravag'd land.
Ah! woe! when in the city's slumber,
By stealth a spark of fire gains force;
Woe! when the mob's unfetter'd number
Finds in itself its sole resource.
Then—Uproar, to the bell ropes springing,
Spreads far and wide the dread alarm;
And where Peace hail'd its joyful ringing,
Its signal bids the city arm.
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“Freedom! Equality!”—all crying,
The burgher arms for his defence;
Through streets, through halls, this, that way flying,
Fell murder's bands their work commence.
Wild women, like hyænas darting,
Laughs mixed with groans, strange dread impart;
While thrills the nerve, while blood is starting,
The woman rends the quivering heart.
The burgher arms for his defence;
Through streets, through halls, this, that way flying,
Fell murder's bands their work commence.
Wild women, like hyænas darting,
Laughs mixed with groans, strange dread impart;
While thrills the nerve, while blood is starting,
The woman rends the quivering heart.
No sanctity the bosom shielding,
No decency, restraint, or shame,
The wicked, as the good are yielding,
To crime impunity proclaim.
No decency, restraint, or shame,
The wicked, as the good are yielding,
To crime impunity proclaim.
'Tis dire to rouse a lion sleeping,
Terrific is the tiger's jaw,
But there's a woe surpasses weeping,—
'Tis savage man let loose from law:
Woe!—who to him, the blind the cruel,
Lends the blest gift from heav'n brought down—
It lights him not, but fires the fuel
That turns to ashes land and town.
Terrific is the tiger's jaw,
But there's a woe surpasses weeping,—
'Tis savage man let loose from law:
Woe!—who to him, the blind the cruel,
Lends the blest gift from heav'n brought down—
It lights him not, but fires the fuel
That turns to ashes land and town.
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Joy! joy to me, kind heav'n has giv'n;
Lo! like a star of golden birth,
The metal polish'd, smooth, and even,
Comes from its coverture of earth.
Lo! around its beauteous crown
Radiance, sunlike radiance thrown,
And the coat of arms' gay burnish,
New honour to my skill shall surnish.
Lo! like a star of golden birth,
The metal polish'd, smooth, and even,
Comes from its coverture of earth.
Lo! around its beauteous crown
Radiance, sunlike radiance thrown,
And the coat of arms' gay burnish,
New honour to my skill shall surnish.
Come all! come all!
Close your ranks, in order settle:
Baptize we now the hallow'd metal;
“Concordia!”—Such her name we call.
To harmony, to heartfelt union,
It gathers in the blest communion.
Be this henceforward its vocation;
For this I watch'd o'er its creation,
That while our life goes lowly under,
The Bell, 'mid yon blue heav'n's expansion,
Should soar, the neighbour of the thunder,
And border on the starry mansion.
Its voice from yon aërial height
Shall seem the music of the sphere,
That rolling lauds its Maker's might,
And leads along the crowned year:
To solemn and eternal things
Alone shall consecrate its chime,
And hourly, as it swiftly swings,
O'ertake the flying wing of time:
Shall lend to Fate its iron tongue,
Heartless itself, nor form'd to feel,
Shall follow, life's mixed scenes among,
Each turn of Fortune's fickle wheel.
And, as its echo on the gale
Dies off, though long and loud the tone,
Shall teach that all on earth shall fail,
All pass away—save God alone.
Now, with the rope's unweary'd might,
From its dark womb weigh up the Bell,
That it may gain th' aërial height,
And in the realm of Echo dwell.
Draw! firmly draw!—it swings, it swings,
Hark! hark! again, it rings, it rings.
Joy to this town, be heard around!
Peace unto all, the Bell's first sound!
Close your ranks, in order settle:
Baptize we now the hallow'd metal;
“Concordia!”—Such her name we call.
To harmony, to heartfelt union,
It gathers in the blest communion.
Be this henceforward its vocation;
For this I watch'd o'er its creation,
That while our life goes lowly under,
The Bell, 'mid yon blue heav'n's expansion,
Should soar, the neighbour of the thunder,
And border on the starry mansion.
Its voice from yon aërial height
Shall seem the music of the sphere,
That rolling lauds its Maker's might,
And leads along the crowned year:
243
Alone shall consecrate its chime,
And hourly, as it swiftly swings,
O'ertake the flying wing of time:
Shall lend to Fate its iron tongue,
Heartless itself, nor form'd to feel,
Shall follow, life's mixed scenes among,
Each turn of Fortune's fickle wheel.
And, as its echo on the gale
Dies off, though long and loud the tone,
Shall teach that all on earth shall fail,
All pass away—save God alone.
Now, with the rope's unweary'd might,
From its dark womb weigh up the Bell,
That it may gain th' aërial height,
And in the realm of Echo dwell.
Draw! firmly draw!—it swings, it swings,
Hark! hark! again, it rings, it rings.
Joy to this town, be heard around!
Peace unto all, the Bell's first sound!
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