The brothers hastened from the mount, and descending, bore homeward the
new-found metal with dances, and with shouts, which called Erix and
Zella to meet them, and to listen, with growing eyes and a faith equal
to their own, to the marvelous tale of the light which fell from heaven,
and their blindness and the voice within them, and the altar burned, and
the molten pool, and the strange wild music which they heard, until a
knowledge entered into them of the gift they had received.
“Father, my prayer is answered,” said Tubal, and quick, to make his
knowledge sure, the four built up the first rude forge, and piled it
high with wood, and put fire to it, and, as it burned, cast in the
metal, which they watched until it reddened and flashed, coruscating.
Then Tubal drew the metal forth, and beat it between two stones, and
flattened it, and, twisting, gave it ever new forms, while Erix, with
Ariel and his mother, stood admiring, and reasoned of its uses. And thus
did Tubal work with cunning and with strength, from day to day, until he
had won the skill to fashion the metal to his will; to arm his arrows
and his spear, and devise new weapons for the chase. He soon found out
the way of beating iron upon itself, nor lacked the wit of many
inventions to aid his labor; and the ponderous sledge wielded by his
arms, black with soot, from morn to eve resounded along the heaving sea,
which knew no heavier din when, long after, Vulcan forged beneath Ætna.
His tribe stood around him thick, and wondered at his work, and learned
of him; and when, as time rolled on, the elders told his story to their
sons, they called him the father of all who worked in metal.