Lightfoot, Whitefoot,

From your clovers lift the head; Come uppe Jetty, follow, follow, Jetty, to the milking shed."

WALL'D securely in the ground,

Stands the mould of well-bak'd clay:
Comrades, at your task be found!

We must cast the Bell to day!

From the burning brow

Sweat must run, I trow,

Would we have our work commended-
Blessings must be heaven-descended.

A solemn word may well befit
The task we solemnly prepare;
When goodly converse hallows it,
The labour flows on gladly there.
Let us observe with careful eyes

What thro' deficient strength escapes;
The thoughtless man we must despise,
Who disregards the thing he shapes.

This forms a man's chief attribute,
And Reason is to him assign'd,

That what his hand may execute.
Within his heart, too, he should find.

Heap ye up the pinewood first,
Yet full dry it needs must be,
That the smother'd flame may
Fiercely through the cavity!
Let the copper brew!

Quick the tin add too,
That the tough bell-metal may
Fuse there in the proper way!

burst

The Bell that in the dam's deep hole
Our hands with help of fire prepare,
From the high belfry-tower will toll,
And witness of us loudly bear.
"Twill there endure till distant days,

On many an ear its sounds will dwell,
Sad wailings with the mourner raise,—
The chorus of devotion swell.
Whatever changeful fate may bring
To be man's portion here below,
Against its metal crown will ring,
And through the nations echoing go.

Bubbles white I see ascend;

Good! the heap dissolves at last;

Let the potash with it blend,
Urging on the fusion fast.

Foam and bubble-free

Must the mixture be,

That from metal void of stain
Pure and full may rise the strain.
For in a song with gladness rife,

The cherish'd child it loves to greet,

When first he treads the path of life,
Wrapped in the arms of slumbers sweet;
His coming fate of joy or gloom
Lies buried in the future's womb;
The tender cares that mothers prove
His golden morning guard with love;
The years with arrowy swiftness fleet.
The proud boy bids the maid adieu,
And into life with wildness flies,
The world on pilgrim's-staff roams through,-
Then as a stranger homeward hies;
And gracefully, in beauty's pride,
Like to some heav'nly image fair,
Her modest cheeks with blushes dyed,
He sees the maiden standing there.
A nameless yearning now appears
And fills his heart; alone he strays,
His eyes are ever moist with tears,

He shuns his brothers' noisy plays;
Her steps he blushingly pursues,

And by her greeting is made blest, Gathers the flow'rs of fairest hues,

With which to deck his true love's breast.

Oh, tender yearning, blissful hope,

Thou golden time of love's young day!

Heav'n seems before the eye to ope,
The heart in rapture melts away.

Oh may it ever verdant prove,
That radiant time of early love.

Dusky-hued becomes each pipe!
Let me plunge this rod in here:
All for casting will be ripe

When we see it glaz'd appear.

Comrades, stand ye by!

Now the mixture try,

If the brittle will combine
With the soft-propitious sign!

For there is heard a joyous sound
Where sternness is with softness bound,
Where joins the gentle with the strong
Who binds himself forever, he
Should prove if heart and heart agree!
The dream is short, repentance long.

Through the bride's fair locks so dear
Twines the virgin chaplet bright,
When the church-bells, ringing clear,
To the joyous feast invite.
Ah! life's happiest festival

Needs must end life's happy May;

With the veil and girdle, all

Those sweet visions fade away.

Though passion may fly,

Yet love must remain;
Though the flow'ret may die,
Yet the fruit scents the plain.

Man must gird for his race
Thro' the stern paths of life,
Midst turmoil and strife,
Must plant and must form,

Gain by cunning or storm;

Must wager and dare,

Would he reach fortune e'er,