In the night alarm chase.
The cymbals whang,
The kettledrums bang: --
# In this passage the
reading or chanting
is shriller and higher. #
"Clear the street,
Clear the street,
Clear the street -- Boom, boom.
In the evening gloom,
In the evening gloom,
Give the engines room,
Give the engines room,
Lest souls be trapped
In a terrible tomb."
The sparks and the pine-brands
Whirl on high
From the black and reeking alleys
To the wide red sky.
Hear the hot glass crashing,
Hear the stone steps hissing.
Coal black streams
Down the gutters pour.
There are cries for help
From a far fifth floor.
For a longer ladder
Hear the fire-chief call.
Listen to the music
Of the firemen's ball.
Listen to the music
Of the firemen's ball.
# To be read or chanted in a heavy bass. #
"'Tis the
NIGHT
Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
"NIGHT
Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
Faster, faster
The red flames come.
"Hum grum," say the engines,
"Hum grum grum."
# Shriller and higher. #
"Buzz, buzz,"
Says the crowd.
"See, see,"
Calls the crowd.
"Look out,"
Yelps the crowd
And the high walls fall: --
Listen to the music
Of the firemen's ball.
Listen to the music
Of the firemen's ball.
# Heavy bass. #
"'Tis the
NIGHT
Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
"NIGHT
Of doom,"
Say the ding-dong doom-bells.
Whangaranga, whangaranga,
Whang, whang, whang,
Clang, clang, clangaranga,
# Bass, much slower. #
Clang, clang, clang.
Clang--a--ranga--
Clang--a--ranga--
Clang,
Clang,
Clang.
Listen -- to -- the -- music --
Of the firemen's ball --
Section Two
"Many's the heart that's breaking
If we could read them all
After the ball is over." (An old song.)
# To be read or sung slowly and softly,
in the manner of lustful, insinuating music. #
Scornfully, gaily
The bandmaster sways,
Changing the strain
That the wild band plays.
With a red and royal intoxication,
A
tangle of sounds
And a syncopation,
Sweeping and bending
From side to side,
Master of dreams,
With a
peacock pride.
A lord of the
delicate flowers of delight
He drives compunction
Back through the night.
Dreams he's a soldier
Plumed and spurred,
And
valiant lads
Arise at his word,
Flaying the sober
Thoughts he hates,
Driving them back
From the dream-town gates.
How can the languorous
Dancers know
The red dreams come
# To be read or chanted slowly and softly
in the manner of lustful insinuating music. #
When the good dreams go?
"'Tis the
NIGHT
Of love,"
Call the silver joy-bells,
"NIGHT
Of love,"
Call the silver joy-bells.
"Honey and wine,
Honey and wine.
Sing low, now, violins,
Sing, sing low,
Blow
gently, wood-wind,
Mellow and slow.
Like
midnight poppies
The sweethearts bloom.
Their eyes flash power,
Their lips are dumb.
Faster and faster
Their pulses come,
Though softer now
The drum-beats fall.
Honey and wine,
Honey and wine.
'Tis the firemen's ball,
'Tis the firemen's ball.
# With a
climax of whispered
mourning. #
"I am slain,"
Cries true-love
There in the shadow.
"And I die,"
Cries true-love,
There laid low.
"When the fire-dreams come,
The wise dreams go."
# Suddenly interrupting. To be read or sung in
a heavy bass. First eight lines as harsh as possible.
Then gradually
musical and sonorous. #
BUT HIS CRY IS DROWNED
BY THE PROUD BAND-MASTER.
And now great gongs whang,
Sharper, faster,
And kettledrums rattle
And hide the shame
With a swish and a swirk
In dead love's name.
Red and crimson
And
scarlet and rose
Magical poppies
The sweethearts bloom.
The
scarlet stays
When the rose-flush goes,
And love lies low
In a
marble tomb.
"'Tis the
NIGHT
Of doom,"
Call the ding-dong doom-bells.
"NIGHT
Of Doom,"
Call the ding-dong doom-bells.
# Sharply interrupting in a very high key. #
Hark how the piccolos still make cheer.
"'Tis a
moonlight night in the spring of the year."
# Heavy bass. #
CLANGARANGA, CLANGARANGA,
CLANG . . . CLANG . . . CLANG.
CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA . . .
CLANG . . . A . . . RANGA . . .
CLANG . . . CLANG . . . CLANG . . .
LISTEN . . . TO . . . THE . . . MUSIC . . .
OF . . . THE . . . FIREMEN'S BALL . . .
LISTEN . . . TO . . . THE . . . MUSIC . . .
OF . . . THE . . . FIREMEN'S . . . BALL. . . .
Section Three
In Which,
contrary to Artistic Custom, the moral of the piece
is placed before the reader.
(From the first Khandaka of the Mahavagga: "There Buddha
thus addressed his
disciples: `Everything, O mendicants, is burning.
With what fire is it burning? I declare unto you it is burning
with the fire of
passion, with the fire of anger, with the fire of ignorance.
It is burning with the anxieties of birth, decay and death,
grief,
lamentation,
suffering and
despair. . . . A
disciple, . . .
becoming weary of all that, divests himself of
passion.
By
absence of
passion, he is made free.'")
# To be intoned after the manner of a priestly service. #
I once knew a teacher,
Who turned from desire,
Who said to the young men
"Wine is a fire."
Who said to the merchants: --
"Gold is a flame
That sears and tortures
If you play at the game."