Mulciberian

and, like the Mulciberian bellows, roared loudly the huge sea-coal fire

Yon black clouds are the fume / Of that great crucible, in which, with torturing fire, / The Mulciberian artist, practice-taught, / Transmutes, with skill ne'er known to th' alchemist, / Each sordid metal into price of gold.

What powerful Mulciberian fellows they must be, those Goldbeaters, whacking and thumping with huge mallets at the precious metals all day.