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

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 - Written in the time of French war.]

VOTIVE TABLETS

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.

THE GOOD AND THE BEAUTIFUL

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!

TO ——

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

GENIUS

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.

CORRECTNESS—(Free translation.)

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!

THE IMITATOR

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 MASTER

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!

TO THE MYSTIC

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