Schiller's Ode to metalcasting.

The German poet who penned "Ode to Joy," famously put to music by Ludwig van Beethoven, also wrote an ode of sorts to metalcasting in 1798. "Song of the Bell" is a 29-stanza poem using the bell-making process to describe author Friedrich von Schiller's version of an ideal society. Following are the 10 stanzas from the poem that paint the picture of the life of a bell, as translated from German to English by Walter H. Schneider.

   "Firmly bricked in the earth
   Stands the mold, fired from clay.
   Today the bell shall be.
   Quickly, workers, be at hand.
      From the forehead hot
      The sweat must run,
   If the creation shall praise the master,
   But the blessing comes from on-high ...

   ... Take wood from the trunk of the fir,
   But let it be quite do;
   That the compressed flame
   Roars into the furnace's chamber.
      Cooks the copper's soup,
      Quickly bring the tin thereto,
   That the viscous meal for the bell,
   Floweth in the manner right ...

   ... White bubbles I now see burst,
   Well! The masses are in flow.
   Let the salt of ashes permeate it,
   That accelerates the casting.
      From foam too
      The mixture must be free,
   That from the pure metal
   Pure and full the voice may sound ...

   ... Look how the pipes are browning!
   This little rod I'll now dip in,
   If we see it re-appear all glazed,
   It will be ready for the cast.
      Now, workers, quick!
      Test the mixture for me,
   To see whether the brittle and the soft
   For a good sign did combine ...

   .... Well! now the casting can begin,
   Beautifully jagged is the fracture.
   But before we let it run,
   Pray a godly verse!
      Push out the plug!
      God protect this house!
   Smoking and in an arc
   It's shooting forth in fiery-brown waves ...

   ... It's taken up by the Earth,
   Luckily the mold is filled,
   Will it be beautiful when it sees the light of day,
   So that diligence and skill be paid?
      If the cast has failed?
      If the mold has cracked?
   Alas! perhaps just while we hope,
   Misfortune has already struck ...

   ... Until the bell cools off,
   Let the heavy labour rest,
   As in the foliage the bird will play,
   May all be good unto themselves.
      When the light of stars does wink,
      Idle of all responsibilities
   The journeyman hears the vespers toll.
   The master, always toil he must ...

   ... Now break this construction for me,
   Its purpose it has served,
   So that heart and eye may feast
   On a well-created construct.
      Swing your hammer, swing,
      'Til the coat cracks,
   If the bell is to rise,
   The mold must be broken into pieces ...

   ... God has given me joy!
   Look! As a golden star
   Out of the husk, shining and even,
   The metal kernel peels itself.
      From the crown to the mouth
      It gleams like sunshine,
   The crest's nice panels too
   Praise the experienced builder ...

   ... Therefore now, with the strength of the rope
   Lift the bell out of her tomb for me,
   That into the realm of sound she may
   Rise, into the air of heaven.
      Pull, pull, lift!
      She's moving, floats,
   May she mean joy for this city,
   Peace shall be her first sounding."