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To the tintinabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II.

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!

What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night

How they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden notes,

And all in tune,

What a liquid ditty floats

To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon!

Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it swells!

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To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells 1

III.

Hear the loud alarum bells —

Brazen bells!

What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells !
In the startled ear of night

How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,

They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,

In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire.
Leaping higher, higher, higher,

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By the side of the pale-faced moon.

Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!

How they clang, and clash, and roar !
What a horror they outpour

On the bosom of the palpitating air!

Yet the ear it fully knows,

By the twanging,

And the clanging,

How the danger ebbs and flows;

Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,

And the wrangling,

How the danger sinks and swells,

By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
Of the bells—

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-

In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV.

Hear the tolling of the bells
Iron bells!

What a world of solemn thought their monody compels !
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright

At the melancholy menace of their tone!

For every sound that floats

From the rust within their throats

Is a groan.

And the people ah, the people -
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,

And who tolling, tolling, tolling,

In that muffled monotone,

Feel a glory in so rolling

On the human heart a stone

They are neither man nor woman
They are neither brute nor human
They are Ghouls:

And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,

Rolls

A pæan from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the pæan of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the pæan of the bells-
Of the bells:

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Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-

To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,

As he knells, knells, knells,

In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells -
Bells, bells, bells –

To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

66

AN ENIGMA.

ELDOM we find," says Solomon Don Dunce, "Half an idea in the profoundest sonnet. Through all the flimsy things we see at once As easily as through a Naples bonnetTrash of all trash!

how can a lady don it!

Yet heavier far than your Petrarchan stuff
Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff
Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it."
And, veritably, Sol is right enough.

The general tuckermanities are arrant
Bubbles-ephemeral and so transparent-

But this is, now, you may depend upon itStable, opaque, immortal-all by dint

Of the dear names that lie concealed within 't.

ANNABEL LEE.

IT was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may

By the name of ANNABEL LEE;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

know

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