Various - Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 53, No. 329, March, 1843

Rejoice and laud the prospering skies!
The kernel bursts its husk—behold
From the dull clay the metal rise,
Clear shining, as a star of gold!
Neck and lip, but as one beam,
It laughs like a sun-beam.
And even the scutcheon, clear graven, shall tell
That the art of a master has fashion'd the Bell!

Come in—come in
My merry men—we'll form a ring
The new-born labour christening;
And "CONCORD" we will name her!—
To union may her heart-felt call
In brother-love attune us all!
May she the destined glory win
For which the master sought to frame her—
Aloft—(all earth's existence under,)
In blue-pavilion'd heaven afar
To dwell—the Neighbour of the Thunder,
The Borderer of the Star!
Be hers above a voice to raise
Like those bright hosts in yonder sphere,
Who, while they move, their Maker praise,
And lead around the wreathèd year!
To solemn and eternal things
We dedicate her lips sublime!—
To fan—as hourly on she swings
The silent plumes of Time!—
No pulse—no heart—no feeling hers!
She lends the warning voice to Fate;
And still companions, while she stirs,
The changes of the Human State!
So may she teach us, as her tone
But now so mighty, melts away—
That earth no life which earth has known
From the Last Silence can delay!

Slowly now the cords upheave her!
From her earth-grave soars the Bell;
Mid the airs of Heaven we leave her
In the Music-Realm to dwell!
Up—upwards—yet raise—
She has risen—she sways.
Fair Bell to our city bode joy and increase,
And oh, may thy first sound be hallow'd to—PEACE! 44 44 Written in the time of French war.

What the God taught me—what, through life, my friend
And aid hath been,
With pious hand, and grateful, I suspend
The temple walls within.

Foster the Good, and thou shalt tend the Flower
Already sown on earth;—
Foster the Beautiful, and every hour
Thou call'st new flowers to birth!

Give me that which thou know'st—I'll receive and attend;—
But thou giv'st me thyself —pri'thee spare me, my friend.

That which hath been can INTELLECT declare,
What Nature built—it imitates or gilds—
And REASON builds o'er Nature—but in air—
Genius alone in Nature—Nature builds.

The calm correctness where no fault we see
Attests Art's loftiest—or its least degree;
Alike the smoothness of the surface shows
The Pool's dull stagnor—the great Sea's repose!

Good out of good— that art is known to all—
But Genius from the bad the good can call—
Thou, mimic, not from leading strings escaped,
Work'st but the matter that's already shaped!
The already shaped a nobler hand awaits—
All matter asks a spirit that creates.

The herd of Scribes by what they tell us
Show all in which their wits excel us;
But the true Master we behold
In what his art leaves—just untold!

That is the real mystery which around
All life, is found;—
Which still before all eyes for aye has been,
Nor eye hath seen!

All measureless, all infinite in awe,
Heaven to great souls is given—
And yet the sprite of littleness can draw
Down to its inch—the Heaven!

Yes, there's a patent of nobility
Above the meanness of our common state;
With what they do the vulgar natures buy
Its titles—and with what they are , the great!

When draw the Prosperous near me, I forget
The gods of heaven; but where
Sorrow and suffering in my sight are set,
The gods, I feel, are there!

What the chief end of Man?—Behold yon tree,
And let it teach thee, Friend!
Will what that will-less yearns for;—and for thee
Is compass'd Man's chief end!

To gain his home all oceans he explored—
Here Scylla frown'd—and there Charybdis roar'd;
Horror on sea—and horror on the land—
In hell's dark boat he sought the spectre land,
Till borne—a slumberer—to his native spot
He woke—and sorrowing, knew his country not!

'Twas not my nectar made thy strength divine,
But 'twas thy strength which made my nectar thine!

See, full of hope, thou trustest to the earth
The golden seed, and waitest till the spring
Summons the buried to a happier birth;
But in Time's furrow duly scattering,
Think'st thou, how deeds by wisdom sown may be,
Silently ripen'd for Eternity?

Where sails the ship?—It leads the Tyrian forth
For the rich amber of the liberal North.
Be kind ye seas—winds lend your gentlest wing,
May in each creek, sweet wells restoring spring!—
To you, ye gods, belong the Merchant!—o'er
The waves, his sails the wide world's goods explore;
And, all the while, wherever waft the gales,
The wide world's good sails with him as he sails!

Steer on, bold Sailor—Wit may mock thy soul that sees the land,
And hopeless at the helm may drop the weak and weary hand,
YET EVER—EVER TO THE WEST, for there the coast must lie,
And dim it dawns and glimmering dawns before thy reason's eye;
Yea, trust the guiding God—and go along the floating grave,
Though hid till now—yet now, behold the New World o'er the wave!
With Genius Nature ever stands in solemn union still,
And ever what the One foretels the Other shall fulfil.

And o'er the river hast thou past, and o'er the mighty sea,
And o'er the Alps, the dizzy bridge hath borne thy steps to me;
To look all near upon the bloom my deathless beauty knows,
And, face to face, to front the pomp whose fame through ages goes—
Gaze on, and touch my relics now! At last thou standest here,
But art thou nearer now to me—or I to thee more near?

What the Grecian arts created,
May the victor Gaul, elated,
Bear with banners to his strand. 45 45 To the shore of the Seine.
In museums many a row,
May the conquering showman show
To his startled Fatherland!

Mute to him, they crowd the halls,
Ever on their pedestals
Lifeless stand they!—He alone
Who alone, the Muses seeing,
Clasps—can warm them into being;
The Muses to the Vandal—stone!

"Who would himself with shadows entertain,
Or gild his life with lights that shine in vain,
Or nurse false hopes that do but cheat the true?
Though with my dream my heaven should be resign'd—
Though the free-pinion'd soul that now can dwell
In the large empire of the Possible,
This work-day life with iron chains may bind,
Yet thus the mastery o'er ourselves we find,
And solemn duty to our acts decreed,
Meets us thus tutor'd in the hour of need,
With a more sober and submissive mind!
How front Necessity—yet bid thy youth
Shun the mild rule of life's calm sovereign, Truth."