The clapper on his giant side
    Shall ring no peal for blushing bride,
    For birth, or death, or new-year tide,
        Or festival begun! 
    A nation’s joy alone shall be
    The signal for his revelry;
    And for a nation’s woes alone
    His melancholy tongue shall moan—­
        Hurra! the work is done!

    Borne on the gale, deep-toned and clear,
    His long, loud summons shall we hear,
    When statesmen to their country dear
        Their mortal race have run;
    When mighty Monarchs yield their breath,
    And patriots sleep the sleep of death,
    Then shall he raise his voice of gloom,
    And peal a requiem o’er their tomb—­
        Hurra! the work is done!

    Should foemen lift their haughty hand,
    And dare invade us where we stand,
    Fast by the altars of our land
        We’ll gather every one;
    And he shall ring the loud alarm,
    To call the multitudes to arm,
    From distant field and forest brown,
    And teeming alleys of the town—­
        Hurra! the work is done!

    And as the solemn boom they hear,
    Old men shall grasp the idle spear,
    Laid by to rust for many a year,
        And to the struggle run: 
    Young men shall leave their toils or books,
    Or turn to swords their pruning-hooks;
    And maids have sweetest smiles for those
    Who battle with their country’s foes—­
        Hurra! the work is done!

    And when the cannon’s iron throat
    Shall bear the news to dells remote,
    And trumpet blast resound the note—­
        That victory is won;
    When down the wind the banner drops,
    And bonfires blaze on mountain tops,
    His sides shall glow with fierce delight,
    And ring glad peals from morn to night—­
        Hurra! the work is done!

    But of such themes forbear to tell—­
    May never War awake this bell
    To sound the tocsin or the knell—­
        Hush’d be the alarum gun. 
    Sheath’d be the sword! and may his voice
    But call the nations to rejoice
    That War his tatter’d flag has furl’d,
    And vanish’d from a wiser world—­
        Hurra! the work is done!

    Still may he ring when struggles cease—­
    Still may he ring for joy’s increase,
    For progress in the arts of peace,
        And friendly trophies won;
    When rival nations join their hands,
    When plenty crowns the happy lands,
    When Knowledge gives new blessings birth,
    And Freedom reigns o’er all the earth—­
        Hurra! the work is done!

    MACKAY.

[Illustration:  FOUNDING OF THE BELL.]

* * * * *

NAPOLEON.