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And wove that bestand dearest band, The instinctive love of Fatherland.
Thousand active hands bestir;
In cheerful league each other aid,
And, in fiery movement, are
All the powers of Art display’d.
Man and Master calmly rest,
Holy Freedom their reliance;
Each in his own place is blest,
To the scorner bids defiance.
Toil should be the Burgher's pride,
Success, of Industry the prize;
The King by pomp is dignified,
Us our labor dignifies.
Gentle Concord !
Kindly Peace !
Ah! tarry, tarry,
Friendly over this our town!
Never may the day appear,
When the hordes of rugged war
Riot thro' this tranquil valley;
When the heavens,
Whence the Evening's blushes mild
so Shall, with conflagration wild Of towns and hamlets, frightful gleam.
Now the mould we may destroy,
It hath answered its intent;
Let us feast both heart and eye
On our task's accomplishment. "
Swing the hammer, swing !
Till themantle spring!
Ere the bell rise from below,
Must the frame to pieces go.
The Master may break up the frame
With prudent hand at fitting hour;
But woe ! whene'er, in brooks of fame,
Itself shall free the glowing ore,
Blind-raging, with the crash of thunder,
It springs in air the bursten house;
And, as from hell-jaws wide asunder,
Blazing destruction forth it spews.
Where rude and senseless powers prevail
Thereform and shape will ever fai;
To free themselves when nations strive,
The commonweal can never thrive.
Woe! when in cities' womb hath lain
The fuel heaped by slow degrees,
The People, shattering their chain,
At self-relief doth madly seize.
Then at the ropes doth Uproar pull,
Till, hallow'd but to peaceful chimes,
The bell with hideous clang doth howl,
The signal to revolt and crimes.
“ Freedom! Equality ! " they call–
The fearful Burgher grasps his arms;
The streets are fill'd, the market-hall–
On all sides prowl the murderous swarms.
Women into hyaenas start;
Disgustingly with horror jest;
With panther-teeth their victims' heart
They tear, yet quivering, from the breast.
Nought holy is there more; all ties
Ofpious Shame are rent in twain;
The Bad of the Good the place supplies,
And freely all the Vices reign.
Towake the lion is perilous;
Destructive is the tiger's tooth;
But fearfullest of fears to rouse
Is Man in his delirious wrath.
Woe's them, who Heaven's torch of light
Unto the ever-blind would trust;
It lights not him; can but ignite,
And lands and cities burns to dust.