The Bells
I.
HEAR
the sledges with the bells --
Silver bells !
What a world of merriment their melody foretells !
How they
tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night !
While the
stars that oversprinkle
All the
heavens, seem to twinkle
With a
crystalline delight ;
Keeping
time, time, time,
In a sort
of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation 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 !
How it dwells
On the
Future ! how it tells
Of the
rapture that impels
To the
swinging and the ringing
Of the
bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells,
bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells --
To the rhyming and
the chiming of the bells !
III.
Hear
the loud alarum bells --
Brazen bells !
What 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,
With
a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now --
now to sit or never,
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 clamour and
the clangour 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
meaning 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,
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 :
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.
~Edgar Allan Poe (published 1849)
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