Genur.art

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 pan from the bells ! And his merry bosom swells With the pan of the bells ! And he dances, and he yells ; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the pan 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.