And in this impressive and magnetic silence, above the flowing sea of curdling surges, upon which the blue shadows, descending gently, caressingly, had stretched an additional peace and solemnity, there fell from the highest gallery of the structure, where the eye tried in vain to discern the heralds at arms, the martial fanfare of trumpets playing in unison. And the soprani of the sister cities, Bruges and Ghent, hailed and acclaimed the Metropolis again and again. Their salutations, ever warmer and more strident, were followed by the hoarse blasts of the aerial fanfare. After this dialogue the carillon began to tintinnabulate, slowly and muted at first, like a covey awakening at dawn in the dew of a coppice, then springing into life, elevating their voices, darting forth in flight with a shower of chords of jubilation. A burst of sunshine. Then the orchestra and the choruses entered the lists. And this was the apotheosis of Wealth and Art.
The poet extolled the Great Market in virulent strophes, in hyperbolical and sonorous commonplaces to which the mise-en-scéne, the ecstacy of the crowd, and Vyveloy's music lent a sublime import. The four quarters of the globe came to salute Antwerp, all the nations of the globe were paying her humble tribute, and, as if modern times and the middle ages were not enough to swell the triumphant sails of the proud city, the cantata went back to antiquity and enlisted the forty centuries of the Pyramids as mace-bearers and lictors. Everything, time and the universe, geography and history, the infinite and the eternal, blended, in this work, into a celebration of the city of Rubens. And in closing one's eyes one could have imagined the passing of a majestic cortège before the throne of the preeminently triumphant painter.
