John Stuart Blackie (1809–1895)

SOLID and square doth master Albert stand,

An air of hardy well-proved thought he wears,

As one that never flinched; and in his hand

The cunning tools of his high art he bears.

From thy grave face severe instructions come;

The peace that ’s born of well-fought fights is thine

Before thy look frivolity is dumb,

And each true workman feels his craft divine.

First-born of Jove, immortal Toil! by thee

This city rose, by thee, so quaintly fair,

It stands, with well-hewn stone in each degree,

Turret, and spire, and carvéd gable rare.

Toil shaped the worlds; and on Earth’s fruitful sod

Man works, a fellow-laborer with God.