withstanding their vast weight, appeared
to leap and reel, under the blows that were rained upon them faster than
hail in winter.

But high above the roar of the blazing chimney, above the din of the
groaning stithy, high pealed the notes of a wild Alcaic ode, to which,
chaunted by the stentorian voices of the powerful mechanics, the clanging
sledges made a stormy but appropriate music. "Strike, strike the iron,"
thus echoed the stirring strain,

Strike, strike the iron, children o' Mulciber,
Hot from the charcoal cheerily glimmering!
Swing, swing, my boys, high swing the sledges!
Heave at it, heave at it, all! Together!
Great Mars, the war God, watches ye laboring
Joyously. Joyous watches the gleam o' the
Bright sparkles, upsoaring the faster,
Faster as our merry blows revive them.
Well knoweth He that clang. It arouses him,
Heard far aloof! He laughs on us hammering
The sword, the clear harness of iron,
Armipotent paramour o' Venus.----
Red glows the charcoal. Bend to the task, my boys,
Time flies apace, and speedily night cometh,
When we no more may ply the anvil;
Fate cometh eke, i' the murky midnight.
Mark ye the pines, which rooted i' rocky ground,(17)
Brave Euroclydon's onset at evening.
Day dawns. The tree, which stood the tallest,
Preeminent i' the leafy greenwood,
Now lies the lowest. Safely the arbutus,
Which bent before him, flourishes, and the sun
Wakens the thrush, which slept securely
Nestled in its emerald asylum.
So, when the war-shout peals i' the noon o' night,
Rousing the sleepers fearful, in ecstacy
When slaves avenge their wrongs, arising
Strong i' the name o' liberty new born,
When fury spares not beauty nor innocence,
First flame the grandest domes. I' the massacre,
First fall the noblest. Lowly virtue
Haply the shade o' poverty defends.
Forge then the broad sword. Quickly the night cometh,
When red the streets with gore o' the mightiest
Shall fiercely flow, like Tiber in flood.
Rise then, avenger, the time it hath come!
Wake bloody tyrants from merry banquetting,
From downy couches, snowy-bosomed women
And ruby wine-cups, wake--The avenger
Springs to his arms, for the time it hath come!