the gratified little ones,
Or, to fermentation yielded, producing the spirited metheglin.
Not scorn'd by the bee-masters, were even those darken'd hexagons
Where slumber'd the dead like the coral-builders in reefy cell.
Even these to a practical use devoted the clear-sighted matron,
Calling forth from cavernous sepulchres cheerful light for the living.
Cleansed and judiciously mingled with an oleagenous element,
Thus drew she from the mould, waxen candles, whose gold-tinted beauty
Crown'd proudly the mantel-piece, reserved for bettermost occasions.
Unheard of, then, was the gas, with briliant jet and gorgeous
chandelier,
Nor hunted they from zone to zone, with barbed harpoon the mighty
whale,
Making the indignant monarch of ocean, their flambeau and link-boy:
For each household held within itself, its own fountain of light.
Faithful was the rural housewife, taking charge of all intrusted
things,
Prolonging the existence of whatever needed repair,
Requiring children to respect the property of their parents,
Not to waste or destroy, but be grateful for food and clothing;
Teaching them industry, and the serious value of fleeting time,
Strict account of which must be rendered to the Master and Giver of
Life.
Prudence was then held in esteem and a laudable economy
Not jeered at by miserly names, but held becoming in all,
For the poor, that they might avoid debt; and the rich that they might
be justly generous.

* * * * *

Ho! for the flax-field, with its flower of blue and leaf freshly
green,--
Ho! for the snowy fleece, which the quiet flock yield to their
master,--
Woman's hand shall transmute both, into armor for those she loves,
Wrapping her household in comfort, and her own heart in calm content.
Hark! at her flaxen distaff cheerily singeth the matron,
Hymns, that perchance, were mingled with her own cradle melodies.
Back and forth, at the Great Wheel, treadeth the buxom damsel,
Best form of calisthenics, exercising well every muscle
Regularly and to good purpose, filling the blue veins with richer
blood.
Rapidly on the spindle, gather threads from the pendent roll,
Not by machinery anatomized, till stamina and staple fly away,
But with hand-cards concocted, and symmetrically formed,
Of wool, white or grey, or the refuse flax smoothed to a silky lustre,
It greeteth the fingers of the spinner.
In this Hygeian concert
Leader of the Orche