IV.
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ear 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 affrightAt the melancholy menace of their tone!For every sound that floatsFrom the rust within their throatsIs 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 rollingOn 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,RollsA pæan from the bells!And his merry bosom swellsWith 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. 1849. * * * * *
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