And the blacksmith thought, as he hammered and wrought, Just fifty years ago, Of the sins that start in the human heart When _its_ metal is all aglow; And he breathed a prayer, on the evening air, As he watched the fire-sparks roll, That with hammer and tongs, _he_ might right the wrongs That environ the human soul! When he leaned on his sledge, not like minion or drudge, With center in self alone, But with vision so grand, it embraced every land, In the sweep of its mighty zone; O'er mountain and main, o'er forest and plain, He gazed from his swarthy home, Till rafter and wall, grew up in a hall, That covered the world with its dome! 'Neath that bending arch, with a tottering march All peoples went wailing by, To the music of groan, of sob, and of moan, To the grave that was yawning nigh, When the blacksmith rose and redoubled his blows On the iron that was aglow, Till his senses did seem to dissolve in a dream, Just fifty years ago. He thought that he stood upon a mountain chain, And gazed across an almost boundless plain; Men of all nations, and of every clime, Of ancient epochs, and of modern time, Rose in thick ranks before his wandering eye, And passed, like waves, in quick succession by. First came Osiris, with his Memphian band Of swarth Egyptians, darkening all the land; With heads downcast they dragged their limbs along, Laden with chains, and torn by lash and thong. From morn till eve they toiled and bled and died, And stained with blood the Nile's encroaching tide. Slowly upon the Theban plain there rose Old Cheop's pride, a pyramid of woes; And millions sank unpitied in their graves, With tombs inscribed--"Here lies a realm of slaves." Next came great Nimrod prancing on his steed, His serried ranks, Assyrian and Mede, By bold Sennacherib moulded into one, By bestial Sardanapalus undone. He saw the walls of Babylon arise, Spring from the earth, invade the azure skies, And bear upon their airy ramparts old Gardens and vines, and fruit, and flowers of gold. Beneath their cold and insalubrious shade All woes and vices had their coverts made; Lascivious incest o'er the land was sown, From peasant cabin to imperial throne, And that proud realm, so full of might and fame, Went down at last in blood, and sin, and shame.