text:  And even the scutcheon clear graven shall tell That the art of a master has fashion'd the Bell! Come in--come in My merry men--we'll form a ring The new-born labour christening; And "CONCORD" we will name her!-- To union may her heart-felt call In brother-love attune us all! May she the destined glory win For which the master sought to frame her-- Aloft--(all earth's existence under ) In blue-pavilion'd heaven afar To dwell--the Neighbour of the Thunder The Borderer of the Star! Be hers above a voice to raise Like those bright hosts in yonder sphere Who while they move their Maker praise And lead around the wreathed year! To solemn and eternal things We dedicate her lips sublime!-- To fan--as hourly on she swings The silent plumes of Time!-- No pulse--no heart--no feeling hers! She lends the warning voice to Fate; And still companions while she stirs The changes of the Human State! So may she teach us as her tone But now so mighty melts away-- That earth no life which earth has known From the Last Silence can delay! Slowly now the cords upheave her! From her earth-grave soars the Bell; Mid the airs of Heaven we leave her In the Music-Realm to dwell! Up--upwards--yet raise-- She has risen--she sways