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Bells, bells, bells, bells,
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
For every sound that floats
Is a groan.
And the people--ah, the people-
In that muffled monotone,
On the human heart a stone--
They are Ghouls :
With the pæan of the bells !
Of the bells;
To the throbbing of the bells-
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
To the rolling of the bells-
To the tolling of the bells-
Bells, bells, bells-
Edgar Allan Poe.
" And whatna hauld sall we draw to,
My merry men and me?
To see that fair ladye.”
She had nae sooner buskit hersel',
Nor putten on her goun,
Were round about the toun.
They had nae sooner sitten doun,
Nor suner said the grace,
Were closed about the place.
The ladye ran up to her touir heid,
As fast as she could drie,
She could with him agree.
As sune as he saw the ladye fair,
And her yetts all lockit fast, He fell into a rage of wrath,
And his heart was aghast.
“ Come down to me, ye ladye fair,
Come down to me, let 's see; This night ye’se lie by my ain side,
The morn my bride sall be.”
" I winna come down, ye fause Gordon ;
I winna come doun to thee ;
That is sae far frae nie."
“Gie up your house, ye fair ladye,
Gie up your house to me; Or I will burn yoursel' therein,
But and your babies thrie.”
“I winna gie 't up, thou fause Gordon,
' To nae sic traitor as thee; Though thou suld burn mysel' therein,
But and my babies thrie.”
"Set fire to the house," quoth fause Gordon,
“ Sin' better may na be; And I will burn hersel' therein,
But and her babies thrie.”
“ And ein wae worth ye, Jock, my man :
I paid ye weil your fee;
Lets in the reek to me?
" And ein wae worth ye, Jock, my man !
I paid you weil your hyre ;
To me lets in the fyre ?"
“ Ye paid me well my hire, lady,
Ye paid me well my fee ;
Jaun either do or die."
Oh then bespake her youngest son,
Sat on the nurse's knee, “ Dear mother, gie ower your house," he says,
“FO the reek worries me."