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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:

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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.

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Mimes, in the form of God on high,

Mutter and mumble low,

And hither and thither fly

Mere puppets they, who come and go

At bidding of vast formless things
That shift the scenery to and fro,

Flapping from out their Condor wings
Invisible Woe!

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