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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 flies,
And with the wind in swiftness vies.

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