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,