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Lift up thy toil-worn hand,
Thou of the stalwart frame and fearless eye!
Lift proudly now thine iron hand on high!
Firm and undaunted stand!
No need hast thou of gems,
To deck the glorious temple of thy thought,
Thou hast the jewels which thy mind hath wrought,
Richer than diadems!
Thou art our God's high-priest,
Standing before great Nature's mighty shrine,
For the whole world, the glorious task is thine,
To spread the eternal feast!
Mighty among thy kind,
Standest thou, man of iron toil, midway
Between the earth and heaven, all things to sway
By thy high working mind!
Thou canst delve in the earth,
And from its might caves bring forth pure gold;
Thou canst unwrap the clouds in heaven rolled,
And give the lightning birth!
Thou hast the story sea
Chained to thy chariot wheels, and th wild winds
Obey the o'er ruling intellect that binds
Their rushing wings to thee!
Thou canst new bands create,
Where the wild rolling wave no mast'ry owns;
And the vast distrance of opposing zones
Canst thou annihilate!
Lift, thEn, thy hand to Heaven!
Spread thy toil-sceptre o'er the sea and land,
Thou hast the world entrusted to thy hand,
Earth to thy charge is given!
Genius of Art when we survey,
Thy works, our minds with rapture glow,
The rising and the setting day
Display thy wonders here below.
Our bosoms own thy magic power,
Our native dignity we scan,
And feel at every passing hour,
The inborn majesty of man.
The massy pyramids that rise,
And o'er the humble cottage frown,
The lofty tower that prop the skies,
Are monuments of thy renown.
Behold the savage quits his bow,
Forsakes his wild ferocious clan,
He feels the genial current flow,
And mellows into social man.
Yon field of flax which summer gales,
Wave as they sweep along the plain,
Transformed by art to swelling sails,
Shall waft our glory o'er the main.
Where mines of min'ral dark and drear,
Lay cover'd with the mountain heap,
Arts mighty Genius whispers here,
Columbia's future thunders sleep.
Cold was the earth and dark the skies,
No vernal beauty bloom'd,
The wild flower spread it crimson dyes,
And barren heaths perfum'd.
Wide as an Angel's eye could ken,
The tangling desart lay,
And scarce the cottages of men,
Would mark the length of way.
The hunger famished Wolf with ire,
Would pace the shades of night,
While children at the winter fire,
Sat shivering with affright.
Mechanic Art! thy mighty hand,
Dispels the midnight gloom.
we view the heath with flowers expand,
And bursting into bloom.
Let there be light, the Almighty said,
And shook the vast profound,
Dark midnight threw aside her shade,
Creation sparkled round.
The hills with fragrance seem'd to breathe,
The birds were hard to sing,
While all creation blush'd beneath,
The rosy-footed Spring.
`Twas by thine aid Almighty Art,
The world beheld this light,
And should thy heavenly beams depart,
Would sink obscured in night.
CONTENT, thou dear object of all our
desires,
To thee the fond bosom with rapture aspires;
Poor mortals deluded thy phantom pursue;
We never possess, we keep thee in view.
Had Adam, our father, thy beauty but known,
Serene as the morning his days would have flown,
All nations and ages had bow'd to thy reign,
Nor pity's soft Angel would ever complain.
Dame Nature foresaw what her sons would endure,
And like a fond parent provided a cure;
She call'd fair Invention her aid to impart;
That handmaid of Science and glory of Art.
Fair Science that lately in caverns unknown,
Repin'd like a vestal, forlorn and alone;
On wings of Invention exulting shall rise,
And measure her flight with the bounds of the skies.
Those men whom the love of their country has fir'd
who smil'd in the arms of applause, and expir'd;
From tombs more resplendently rise to the views,
Applauded by Senates, and sung by the Muse.
All hail then, Invention, thy blessings bestow,
To brighten the prospects of mortals below;
The Arts and the Sciences both shall combine,
With chaplets of glory to cover thy shrine.
(pp. 26-28)
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