In doing research on East Haddam legends and lore, I came across a poem written by John Gardiner Calkins Brainard. His family is connected to the Gardiner Island of New York and to the Brainerds in our area.
The poem/song speaks to the sentiment around our alchemist, Dr. Steele, who came from England to study the Moodus Noises and the Carbuncles, which I spoke about in previous blogs. Mr. Brainard served as Editor for the Connecticut Mirror around 1822 and penned this for an edition. It is no wonder our moodus noises and carbuncle legend is known far and wide.
Enjoy!
MACHIT- MOODUS
by John Gardiner Calkins Brainard
SEE you upon the lonely moor,
A crazy building rise?
No hand dares venture to open the door —
No footstep treads its dangerous floor —
No eye in its secrets pries.
Now why is each crevice stopped so tight?
Say, why the bolted door?
Why glimmers at midnight the forge's light —
All day is the anvil at rest, but at night
The flames of the furnace roar?
Is it to arm the horse's heel,
That the midnight anvil rings?
Is it to mould the ploughshare's steel,
Or is it to guard the wagon's wheel,
That the smith's sledge-hammer swings?
The iron is bent, and the crucible stands
With alchymy boiling up;
Its contents were mixed by unknown hands,
And no mortal fire e'er kindled the brands,
That heated that cornered cup.
O'er Moodus river a light has glanced,
On Moodus hills it shone;
On the granite rocks the rays have danced,
And upward those creeping lights advanced,
Till they met on the highest stone.
O that is the very wizard place,
And now is the wizard hour,
By the light that was conjured up, to trace
Ere the star that falls can run its race,
The seat of the earthquake's power.
By that unearthly light, I see
A figure strange alone —
With magic circlet on his knee,
And decked with Satan's symbols, he
Seeks for the hidden stone.
Now upward goes that gray old man,
With mattock, bar, and spade —
The summit is gained, and the toil began,
And deep by the rock where the wild lights ran,
The magic trench is made.
Loud and yet louder was the groan
That sounded wide and far;
And deep and hollow was the moan,
That rolled around the bedded stone,
Where the workman plied his bar.
Then upward streamed the brilliant's light,
It streamed o'er crag and stone: —
Dim looked the stars, and the moon, that night;
But when morning came in her glory bright,
The man and the jewel were gone.
But woe to the bark in which he flew
From Moodus' rocky shore;
Woe to the captain, and woe to the crew,
That ever the breath of life they drew,
When that dreadful freight they bore.
Where is that crew and vessel now?
Tell me their state who can?
The wild waves dash o'er their sinking bow —
Down, down to the fathomless depths they go,
To sleep with a sinful man.
The carbuncle lies in the deep, deep sea,
Beneath the mighty wave;
But the light shines upward so gloriously,
That the sailor looks pale, and forgets his glee,
When he crosses the wizard's grave.