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And the treasure-laden granaries,
And the cornfields' waving seas.
Boasting, he gazes round,
“ Firm as the very ground,
Spite of Misfortune's cross,
Stands the wealth of my house.”
But with the powers of Destiny
No lasting band may woven be;
And Misfortune strideth swift.

Good! the cast may be begun,
Well-jagg'd doth the breach appear;
Yet, before we let it run,
Breathe ye first a pious pray'r.
Strike the stopper loose !
God preserve the house !
Shooting into the hanger's bow
The fire-brown billows reeking flow.

Beneficent is fire's strong might
When man subdues and watches it;
Whate'er with art or toil he does,
Unto this heavenly power he owes;
But dread this heavenly power grows,
When, breaking from its fetters loose,

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On its own track it ranges wild,
Nature's free and daring child.
Woe! when it, from bondage freed, -
When nought its increase can withstand,
Through streets alive with crowds doth haste,
Whirling its enormous brand;
For the elements detest
Every work of human hand.

From the cloud
Blessings pour;–
The rain doth show'r;–
From the cloud, undistinguishing,
Lightnings spring.

Hark! from the tower that wailing peal!
'Tis the 'larum-bell!
Blood-red, lo!
Are the skies!
That is not the day-break's glow.
Hark! what noise,
Along the streets!
Smoke waves up!
Fiery columns flickering rise!
Through the streets' long lines it fies,
And with the wind in swiftness vies.

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