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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 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,
With a desperate desire,

And a resolute endeavour
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 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 pean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the pean 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.

TO ONE IN PARADISE.

I.

THOU wast that all to me, love,
For which my soul did pine-
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,

All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.

II.

Ah, dream too bright to last!

Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast !

A voice from out the Future cries,
On! on!"-but o'er the Past

(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies, Mute, motionless, aghast!

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(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,

Or the stricken eagle soar!

IV.

And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams;

In what ethereal dances,

By what eternal streams.

THE VALLEY OF UNREST.

Once it smiled a silent dell
Where the people did not dwell;
They had gone unto the wars,
Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,
Nightly from their azure towers,
To keep watch above the flowers,
In the midst of which all day
The red sun-light lazily lay.

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