UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 
 
 3 1822019547918
 
 

 
 OETRY of the JifELLS 
 
 ^ 
 
 f 
 
 COLLECTED BY 
 SAMUEL BATCHKLDER, JR 
 
 RIVERSIDE PRESS 
 PRINTED IN AID OF THE CAMBRIDGE CHIME 
 
 BY H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY 
 l8 5 8
 
 To call the fold to Church in time. 
 We chime. 
 
 When joy and mirth are on the wing, 
 We ring. 
 
 When \ve lament a departed soul, 
 We toll." 
 
 > 
 
 L 
 
 .
 
 PAGE 
 
 Proem. Isabella James 5 
 
 The Bell at Sea. Mrs. Hemans 8 
 
 The Chimes of England. Arthur C. Ctxe . . . . 10 
 
 An Incident of the Fire at Hamburg. Lowell . . 14 
 
 Matin Bells. Arthur C. Coxe . 18 
 
 The Bells of Shandon. Rev. Francis Mahony . . 21 
 
 The Sabbath Bells. Charles Lamb' 23 
 
 Carillon. Longfellow 24 
 
 Song of the Bell. Longfellow 28 
 
 The Cambridge Chime. E. Batchelder ... 30 
 
 Old Church Bells. Dublin University Magazine . . 32 
 
 The Bells. Edgar A. Poe 34 
 
 The Spire of Strasburg Cathedral. Longfellow . . 40 
 
 Church Bells. Keble 46 
 
 St. Sylvan's Bell. Arthur C. Coxc ...... 51 
 
 Godminster Chimes. Lowell 57 
 
 A Reverie. From a Friend . 6 1 

 
 
 ^ A 
 
 x, 
 
 
 From " Urania, a Rhymed Lesson." O. IV Holmes . 64 
 
 From " In Memoriam, CIV." Tennyson .... 65 
 
 Those Evening Bells. Moore 67 
 
 From ".The Golden Legend." Longfellow ... 68 
 
 From " In Memoriam, XXVIII." Tennyson ... 69 
 
 How soft the Music of those Village Bells. Coivpcr 71 
 
 L' Knvoi. Editor 72
 
 -0- 
 
 -V 
 
 y 
 
 
 H&} 
 
 X 
 
 \*r" 
 
 
 ?- 
 
 5 
 
 
 m 
 
 \^ 
 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 W 
 
 rv^ 
 
 ? 
 
 //>, 
 
 4r' 
 
 V 
 y 
 
 PRC 
 
 ^(* Y 
 
 ^A 
 
 |. 
 
 S-> 
 
 ' 
 
 ^ f-^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 -< 
 
 So^ 
 
 S 
 
 ^|>)ROM 
 
 ROM the square tower, 
 - Heavy and flow, 
 
 Toll the sad funeral 
 Echoes of woe. 
 
 Sadly and solemnly roll forth the knell, 
 Firft for the loved one a requiem swell. 
 
 Sweet was the mufic, 
 Thrilling and low, 
 From lips that once sounded 
 Like water's clear flow
 
 
 A 
 
 ^ 
 
 /T 
 
 />\ 
 
 A 
 
 ^^ ' *^ 
 
 ^5 
 
 ' A" lV - 
 
 /v* 
 
 j^jj2l 
 
 ^^fffv^-srlfi 
 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 M 
 
 r 
 
 5 
 
 
 '<<^ /v -^*t^ yv -^ 
 
 '^J'Nc'^Ns' 
 
 
 6 
 
 
 - 
 
 ", 
 
 Web 
 
 / ?^i 
 
 y 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 <(|> 
 
 / 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^' 
 
 Throu 
 
 gh din and disorder and 
 
 changes 
 
 
 ^A 
 w2 
 
 y 
 \ f 
 
 
 of time, 
 
 
 
 ; 
 
 ' 
 
 m 
 
 y 
 
 In his 
 
 heart there was 
 
 pealing 
 
 a heav- 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 S "-v r 
 
 ?" 
 
 
 enly chime. 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 V 
 
 y 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 - 
 
 
 
 , 
 
 R 
 
 inrr rrnm tnr* n/^ 
 
 If 
 
 
 
 ^A 
 
 1 
 
 
 . 
 
 Loudly and clear, 
 
 Waves of loved harmonies, 
 
 He cannotrhear; 
 
 For the voice that once chanted 
 
 On earth the glad ftrain, 
 
 Exalted to glory, 
 
 Repeats it again. 
 
 Then why {hould he liften 
 
 To hope's earthly bells ? 
 
 For all is fruition 
 
 Where joyful he dwells.
 
 Rino- from the tower, 
 
 O ' 
 
 Merrily, clear, 
 
 Over the Bride, 
 
 Whose vows are made here. 
 Cheerfully, hopefully, wedded in heart, 
 What God joins together no creature 
 (hall part. 
 
 Ring from the belfry, 
 
 Gently a peal 
 
 What time hath in keeping 
 
 Of woe or of weal 
 For the Infant unconscioufly brought 
 
 to acquire 
 In waters baptismal the Spirit of fire. 
 
 Ring out over hill-fide, 
 Chime out over sea, 

 
 The gospel's glad sound, 
 To the bond and the free; 
 
 Bid the deaf and the blind and the 
 lame to the feaft, 
 
 And tell to the nations the tidings of 
 
 Peace. 
 
 Isabel/a James. 
 
 THE BELL AT SEA. 
 
 HEN the tide's billowy swell ,.' 
 
 Had reached its height, 
 Then pealed the Rock's lone 
 
 Bell 
 Sternly by night. 
 
 % 
 
 Far over cliff and surge, 
 Swept the deep sound,
 
 Making each wild wind's dirge 
 Still more profound. 
 
 Yet that funereal tone 
 
 The sailor blefled, 
 Steering through darkness on, 
 With fearless breaft. 
 
 E'en thus may we, that float 
 
 On life's wide sea, 
 Welcome each warning note, 
 
 Stern though it be ! 
 
 Mrs. llemans.
 
 m 
 
 ibnoi 
 
 mm 
 
 THE CHIMES OF ENGLAND. 
 Upon the bells. Zechariah. 
 
 )HE chimes, the chimes of Moth- 
 erland, 
 
 Of England green and old, 
 That out from fane and ivied 
 
 tower 
 
 A thousand years have tolled ; 
 How glorious muft their mufic be 
 As breaks the hallowed day, 
 And calleth with a seraph's voice 
 A nation up to pray ! 
 
 Those chimes that tell a thousand tales, 
 Sweet tales of olden time ; 
 
 '( 
 
 
 I J 
 
 k / 
 
 I 
 
 9 
 
 CO 
 
 1/U
 
 And ring a thousand memories 
 
 At vesper, and at prime ! 
 
 At bridal and at burial, 
 
 For cottager and king, 
 
 Those chimes those glorious Chriftian 
 
 chimes, 
 How blefTedly they ring ! 
 
 The chimes, those chimes of Mother- 
 land, 
 
 Upon a Chriftmas morn, 
 Outbreaking as the angels did, 
 For a Redeemer born ! 
 How merrily they call afar, 
 To cot and baron's hall, 
 With holly decked and miftletoe, 
 To keep the feftival !
 
 ro 
 
 , r\iis> rm 
 
 .T 
 
 The chimes of England, how they 
 
 peal 
 
 From tower and Gothic pile, 
 Where hymn and swelling anthem fill 
 The dim cathedral aisle ; 
 Where windows bathe the holy light 
 "V On prieftly heads that falls, 
 And ftain the florid tracery 
 Of banner-dighted walls ! 
 
 And then, those Eafter bells, in Spring, 
 Those glorious Eafter chimes ! 
 
 loyally they hail thee round, 
 ^ueen of holy times ! 
 From hill to hill, like sentinels, 
 Responfively they cry, 
 And fing the rifing of the Lord, 
 
 ' 
 
 
 From vale to mountain high. 
 
 
 DC
 
 
 1 
 
 I love ye chimes of Motherland, 
 With all this soul of mine, 
 
 And bless the Lord that I am sprung 
 Of good old Englifh line : 
 And like a son I fing the lay 
 That England's glory tells ; 
 For (he is lovely to the Lord, 
 For you, ye Chriftian bells ! 
 
 And heir of her anceftral fame, 
 
 Though far away my birth, 
 
 Thee too I love, my Foreft-land, 
 Y The joy of all the earth ; 
 ^ For thine thy mother's voice fhall be, 
 
 And here where God is King, 
 
 - 
 
 With Englim chimes, from Chriftian 
 
 spires, 
 / The wilderness mail ring. 
 
 - 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 P 
 
 ;
 
 AN INCIDENT OF THE FIRE AT HAMBURG. 
 
 f"T"AHE tower of old Saint Nicholas soared 
 / J. upward to the fkies, 
 
 . Like some huge piece of Nature's make, the 
 \ growth of centuries ; 
 
 You could not deem its crowding spires a work 
 
 of human art, 
 
 They seemed to ftruggle light ward from a fturdy 
 living heart. 
 
 j . 
 
 Not Nature's self more freely speaks in cryftal or t 
 
 r i \ 
 
 in oak, 
 Than, through the pious builder's hand, in that 
 
 gray pile (he spoke ; 
 And as from acorn springs the oak, so, freely and 
 
 alone, 
 Sprang from his heart this hymn to God, sung in j; 
 
 obedient ftone.
 
 or > -ra 
 
 ! 
 
 Never did rock or ftream or tree lay claim with 
 
 i= ^ 
 
 better right 
 
 15 n 
 
 I 
 
 ' ' J 
 
 A whim of Nature cryftallized flowly in granite 
 
 tough ; 
 The thick spires yearned towards the fky in 
 
 quaint, harmonious lines, 
 And in broad sunlight bafked and flept, like a 
 
 grove of blafted pines. 
 
 JJ 
 
 To all the adorning sympathies of fhadow and of 
 
 light j 
 
 And, in that foreft petrified, as forefter there 
 dwells 
 
 Stout Herman, the old sacriftan, sole lord of all 
 
 . its bells. 
 
 Surge leaping after surge, the fire roared onward 
 
 red as blood, 
 Till half of Hamburg lay engulfed beneath the 
 
 eddying flood ;
 
 For miles away, the fiery spray poured down its 
 
 : , 
 
 deadly rain, 
 
 And back and forth the billows sucked, and 
 paused, and burft again. 
 
 From square to square with tiger leaps rufhed on 
 
 the luftful fire, 
 The air to leeward fhuddered with the gasps of its 
 
 defire ; 
 And church and palace, which even now flood 
 
 whelmed but to the knee, 
 Lift their black roofs like breakers lone amid the [ 
 
 whirling sea. 
 I 
 
 Up in his tower old Herman sat and watched 
 
 with quiet look ; 
 His soul had trufted God too long to be at laft 
 
 forsook ; 
 r He could not fear, for surely God a pathway 
 
 would unfold 
 
 ' 
 Through this red sea for faithful hearts, as once 
 
 7
 
 . But scarcely can he cross himself, or on his good 
 saint call, 
 
 Before the sacrilegious flood o'erleaped the church- 
 yard wall ; 
 
 And, ere a pater half was said, 'mid smoke and 
 crackling glare, 
 
 His ifland tower scarce juts its head above the 
 
 / wide despair. 
 
 / 
 
 Upon the peril's desperate peak his heart ftood up 
 
 sublime ; 
 His firft thought was for God above, his next 
 
 was for his chime ; 
 
 '? 
 
 11 Sing now and make your voices heard in hymns 
 
 of praise," cried he, . 
 " As did the Israelites of old, safe walking through 
 
 the sea! 
 
 4t> Through this red sea our God hath made the 
 pathway safe to fhore ; 
 
 Our promised land (lands full in fight ; fhout now 
 as ne'er before ! "
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 f 
 
 ) l8 
 
 . 
 
 
 t 
 
 *; And as the tower came crufhing down, the bells, 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 in clear accord, 
 
 
 
 
 4 _ Pealed forth the grand old German hymn, " All 
 
 : 
 
 
 
 V 
 ( 
 
 good souls, praise the Lord ! " 
 
 . 
 
 
 - 
 
 Loivell. 
 
 , 
 
 
 
 
 <**> 
 
 
 r 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 } 
 
 v ' 
 
 , 
 
 
 MATIN BELLS. 
 
 
 - 
 
 ^ 
 
 I myself will awake right early. Psalter. 
 
 j 
 
 ..; 
 
 
 : 
 
 I. &Ji H ' E SUI1 ' S UP betimeS > 
 
 l 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 And the dappled Eaft is blufh- 
 ing, 
 
 -( 
 
 , 
 
 
 And the merry matin-chimes, 
 
 '' 
 
 
 
 
 
 i They are gufhing Chriftian gufhing ! 
 
 ; 
 
 . 
 
 
 They are tolling in the tower, 
 
 / 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 For another day begun ; 
 
 , 
 
 
 T 
 
 And to hail the rifing hour 
 
 f: 
 
 . 
 
 
 Of a brighter, brighter Sun ! 
 
 ' 
 
 " 
 
 J 
 
 Rise Chriftian rise ! 
 
 ^ 
 
 ,; 
 
 
 For a sunfhine brighter far 
 
 ; 
 
 r 
 
 . 
 \ 
 
 Is breaking o'er thine eyes, 
 
 ..; 
 
 ; 
 
 
 Than the bonny morning ftar ! 
 
 , 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 ' 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 :; 
 
 .. 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 a 
 
 The lark is in the fky, 
 
 And his morning-note is pouring 
 He hath a wing to fly, 
 
 So he's soaring Chriftian soarin 
 His neft is on the ground, 
 
 But only in the night ; 
 For he loves the matin-sound, 
 
 And the higheft heaven's height. 
 Hark Chriftian Hark ! 
 
 At heaven-door he fings ! 
 And be thou like the lark, 
 
 With thy soaring spirit-wings ! 
 
 The merry matin-bells, 
 
 In their watch-tower they are swinging ; 
 For the day is o'er the dells, 
 
 And they're Tinging Chriftian finging ! 
 They have caught the morning beam 
 
 Through their ivied turret's wreath, 
 And the chancel-window's gleam 
 
 Is glorious beneath : 
 
 / 
 
 v> 
 
 I 
 
 &
 
 / 
 
 Go Chriftian go, 
 
 For the altar flameth there, 
 And the snowy veftments glow, 
 
 Of the prefbyter at prayer ! 
 
 F\\ 
 
 There is morning incense flung 
 
 From the childlike lily-flowers ; 
 And their fragrant censer swung, 
 
 Make it ours Chriftian ours ! 
 <N 
 
 And hark, our Mother's hymn, 
 
 ^V J And the organ-peals we love ! 
 
 ^ They sound like cherubim 
 
 At their orisons above ! 
 Pray Chriftian pray, 
 
 At the bonny peep of dawn, 
 Ere the. dewdrop and the spray 
 That chriften it, are gone ! 
 
 Arthur C. Coxe. 
 
 
 '
 
 G 
 
 ^ 
 *) 
 C 
 
 
 THE BELLS OF SHANDON. 
 
 A \rjPITH deep affection and recollection 
 ~']Mi>, I often think of those Shandon bells, 
 
 ^!^3D-6 
 
 Whose sound so wild would, in days of childhood, 
 
 Fling round my cradle their magic spells ; 
 On this I ponder where'er I wander, 
 And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee, 
 
 With thy bells of Shandon, 
 
 That sound so grand on 
 The pleasant waters of the River Lee. 
 
 I've heard bells chiming full many a clime in, 
 
 Tolling sublime in Cathedral {hrine, 
 While at a glib rate brass tongues would vibrate, 
 
 But all their mufic spoke naught like thine ; 
 For memory dwelling on each proud swelling 
 Of thy belfry knelling its bold notes free, 
 Made the bells of Shandon 
 Sound far more grand on 
 The pleasant waters of the River Lee.
 
 I've heard bells tolling " old Adrian's mole " in, 
 
 Their thunder rolling from the Vatican, 
 And cymbals glorious swinging uproarious 
 
 In the gorgeous turrets of Notre Dame ; 
 But thy sounds were sweeter than the Dome of 
 
 Peter 
 
 Flings o'er the Tiber tolling solemnly, - 
 Oh the bells of Shandon 
 Sound so grand on 
 pleasant waters of the River Lee. 
 
 J 
 
 There's a bell in Moscow, while on tower and kiosko 
 
 In St. Sophia the Turkman gets, 
 And loud in air calls men to prayer 
 
 From the tapering summit of tall minarets ; 
 Such empty phantom I freely grant them, 
 But there's an anthem more dear to me, 
 'Tis the bells of Shandon 
 That sound so grand on 
 The pleasant waters of the River Lee. 
 
 Re-~u. Francis Mabony.
 
 THE SABBATH BELLS. 
 
 HE cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, 
 Strike pleasant on the sense, moft like the 
 
 voice 
 
 Of one who, from the far-off hills, pro- 
 claims 
 
 Tidings of good to Zion : chiefly when 
 Their piercing tones fall sudden on the ear 
 Of the contemplant, solitary man, 
 Whom thoughts abstruse or high have chanced to lure 
 Forth from the walks of men, revolving oft, 
 And oft again, hard matter which eludes 
 And baffles his pursuit, thought-fick and tired 
 Of controversy, where no end appears, 
 No clue to his research, the lonely man 
 Half wifhes for society again. 
 Him, thus engaged, the Sabbath bells salute, 
 Sudden ! his heart awakes, his ear drinks in 
 The cheering mufic ; his relenting soul 
 Yearns after all the joys of social life, 
 And softens with the love of human kind. 
 
 Charles Lamb.
 
 iljlulilili.^ N the ancient town of Bruges, 
 T 1 tne quaint old Flemifti city, 
 Ip- As the evening (hades de- 
 scended, 
 
 Low and loud and sweetly blended, 
 Low at times and loud at times, 
 And changing like a poet's rhymes, 
 Rang the beautiful wild chimes, 
 From the Belfry in the market 
 Of the ancient town of Bruges. 
 
 Then, with deep sonorous clangor 
 Calmly answering their sweet anger, 
 When the wrangling bells had ended, 
 Slowly ftruck the clock eleven, 
 And, from out the filent heaven, 
 Silence on the town descended. 
 
 ^A. 
 
 - -.;
 
 25 
 
 A 
 
 
 Silence, filence everywhere, 
 On the earth and in the air, 
 Save that footfteps here and there 
 Of some burgher home returning, 
 By the ftreet lamps faintly burning, 
 For a moment woke the echoes 
 Of the ancient town of Bruges. 
 
 O 
 
 But amid my broken /lumbers 
 Still I heard those magic numbers, 
 As they loud proclaimed the flight 
 And ftolen marches of the mVht ; 
 
 O " 
 
 Till their chimes in sweet collifion 
 Mingled with each wandering vifion, 
 Mingled with the fortune-telling 
 Gipsy-bands of dreams and fancies, 
 Which amid the wafte expanses 
 4 
 
 -*>.<- 
 
 -f*^- 
 
 :^> 
 
 ^\. ^': ~ 
 
 elF 
 
 S3 ES\ 
 
 
 r >< 
 
 1 t 
 
 m 
 
 &\ 
 
 D C
 
 Of the filent land of trances 
 Have their solitary dwelling. 
 All else seemed afleep in Bruges, 
 In the quaint old Flemifh city. 
 
 And I thought how like these chimes 
 Are the poet's airy rhymes, 
 
 :; All his rhymes and roundelays, 
 His conceits, and songs, and ditties, 
 From the belfry of his brain, 
 Scattered downward, though in vain, 
 On the roofs and ftones of cities ! 
 
 -> For by night the drowsy ear 
 Under its curtains cannot hear, 
 
 > And by day men go their ways, 
 Hearing the mufic as they pass, 
 But deeming it no more, alas ! 
 
 * Than the hollow sound of brass. 
 
 )
 
 CVv 
 
 Yet perchance a fleepless wight, 
 
 Lodging at some humble inn 
 
 In the narrow lanes of life, 
 
 When the dufk and hufh of night 
 
 Shut out the inceflant din 
 
 Of daylight, and its toil and ftrife, 
 
 May liften with a calm delight 
 
 To the poet's melodies, 
 
 Till he hears, or dreams he hears, 
 
 Intermingled with the song, 
 
 Thoughts that he has cherifhed long ; 
 
 Hears amid the chime and Tinging 
 
 The bells of his own village ringing, 
 
 And wakes, and finds his flumberous 
 
 eyes 
 
 Wet with moft delicious tears. 
 Thus dreamed I, as by night I lay 
 In Bruges, at the Fleur-de-Ble, 
 
 -
 
 " Liftening with a wild delight 
 
 To the chimes that, through the night 
 
 y Rang their changes from the Belfry 
 
 Of that quaint old Flemifh city. 
 
 SONG OF THE BELL. 
 
 From the German. 
 
 ELL ! thou soundeft merrily, 
 When the bridal party 
 
 To the church doth hie ! 
 Bell ! thou soundeft solemnly, 
 When, on Sabbath morning, 
 Fields deserted lie ! 
 
 Bell ! thou soundeft merrily ; 
 Telleft thou at evening,
 
 
 
 J:,., 
 
 ~^f CTi 
 
 o 
 
 Bedtime draweth nigh ! 
 Bell ! thou soundeft mournfully 
 Telleft thou the bitter 
 
 Parting hath gone by ! 
 
 Say ! how canft thou mourn ? 
 How canft thou rejoice ? 
 
 Thou art but metal dull ! 
 And yet all our sorrowings, 
 And all our rejoicings, 
 
 Thou doft feel them all ! 
 
 God hath wonders many, 
 Which we cannot fathom, 
 
 Placed within thy form ! 
 When the heart is finking, 
 Thou alone canft raise it, 
 
 Trembling in the ftonn ! 
 
 Longfellonv. 
 
 : :-^e-:4^ 
 
 i 
 
 
 ^^
 
 s 
 
 
 ' 
 
 f 
 
 1 
 
 ) 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 s 
 
 I 
 
 :> 
 
 - 
 
 
 , 
 
 ] 
 
 
 THE CAMBRIDGE CHIME. 
 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 ) 
 
 \ 
 
 
 y 
 
 l^jftK&TU DENTS rowing on the river, 
 
 t 
 
 < 
 
 
 Ij^M Brilliant clubs in blue and white, 
 
 ( 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 Lay upon their oars to liften 
 
 '( 
 
 
 
 \ To the mufic of the bells ; 
 
 Y 
 
 - 
 
 1 
 
 While the waves beneath them quiver 
 
 
 
 
 r 
 
 In the sunset's golden light, 
 
 I 
 
 -i 
 
 r 
 
 
 And the bubbles dance and gliften 
 
 \ 
 
 
 1 
 
 Far behind them, gay and bright, 
 
 ; 
 
 ! 
 
 
 u While their song responfive swells 
 
 i 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 To the mufic of the bells. 
 
 ( 
 
 
 V 
 
 Y 
 Hark ! upon some Class-Day morning, 
 
 i 
 
 T 
 ' 
 
 1 
 
 Gayeft day of all the year, 
 
 ! 
 
 - 
 
 ( 
 
 Glorioufly we hear them ringing 
 
 ( 
 
 - 
 
 1 
 
 Out " Fair Harvard," loud and clear ; 
 
 < 
 
 ; 
 
 
 Then, when round " the tree " entwining 
 
 'V 
 
 I 
 
 r 
 
 
 All Fair Harvard's sons mall ftand, 
 
 \ 
 
 
 v 
 ' 
 
 \ / 
 
 While the sun's laft.ray is mining 
 
 '5 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 V 
 
 ' 
 
 
 j 
 
 \ 
 
 
 P 
 
 
 * "> 
 
 ^
 
 3i 
 
 fr 
 
 On the academic band, 
 ; 
 
 Auld Lang Syne " fhall flowly sound, 
 
 And the ftudent chorus swells 
 To the mufic of the bells. 
 
 V 
 
 jl 
 
 Many a maid fhall, sweetly dreaming, 
 Walk around our ancient town, 
 And, her eyes with pleasure beaming, 
 Hear some merry marriage peal 
 From the belfry floating down 
 Gently o'er her senses fteal ; 
 See the Bride in bright array 
 Gayly drive from church away, 
 
 While each heart responfive swells 
 
 To the mufic of the bells. 
 
 Homeward, toward his Alma Mater, 
 Turns the son in after years, 
 And, with heart and look sedater, 
 Views each scene which reappears 
 Peopled with familiar faces, 
 Voiceful with remembered mirth, 
 Swift the vanifhed paft retraces,
 
 32 
 
 j 
 
 Bringing back the loft to earth ; 
 ) Then descends the soothing chime, 
 As in that delightful time, 
 
 While his heart responfive swells 
 To the mufic of the bells. 
 
 E. Batcbelder. 
 
 OLD CHURCH BELLS. 
 
 out merrily, 
 Loudly, cheerily, 
 Blithe old bells from the fteeple tower. 
 
 Hopefully, fearfully, 
 
 Joyfully, tearfully, 
 
 Moveth the Bride from her maiden bower. 
 Cloud there is none in the fair summer fky ; 
 Sunftiine flings benison down from on high ; 
 Children fing loud, as the train moves along, 
 " Happy the Bride that the sun fhineth on." 
 
 Knell out drearily, 
 Measured and wearily,
 
 Sf 
 
 1 
 
 4 
 
 Sad old bells from the fteeple gray. 
 
 Priefts chanting lowly ; 
 
 Solemnly, flowly, 
 
 Pafleth the corpse from the portal to-day. 
 Drops from the laden clouds heavily fall 
 Drippingly over the plume and the pall ; 
 Murmur old folk, as the train moves along, 
 " Happy the dead that the rain raineth on." 
 
 Toll at the hour of prime, 
 
 Matin, and vesper chime, 
 Loved old bells from the fteeple high 
 
 Rolling, like holy waves, 
 
 Over the lowly graves, 
 Floating up, prayer fraught, into the fky. 
 Solemn the leflbn your lighteft notes teach ; 
 Stern is the preaching your iron tongues preach 
 Ringing in life from the bud to the bloom, 
 Ringing the dead to their reft in the tomb. 
 
 Peal out evermore 
 Peal as ye pealed of yore, 
 

 
 90S 
 
 r^lfr 
 
 tin :*? 
 
 Brave old bells, on each Sabbath day, 
 In sunfhine and gladness, 
 Through clouds and through sadness, 
 Bridal and burial have both pafled away. 
 Tell us life's pleasures with death are ftill rife, 
 Tell us that death ever leadeth to life ; 
 Life is our labor, and death is our reft, 
 If happy the living, the dead are the bleft. 
 
 Dublin University Magazine. 
 
 THE BELLS. 
 
 EAR the fledges with the bells 
 
 Silver bells 
 
 What a world of merriment their mel- 
 ody foretells ! 
 
 How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, 
 In the icy air of night ! 
 While the ftars that oversprinkle 
 All the heavens, seem to twinkle 
 
 t 
 
 A
 
 35 
 
 ^a 
 
 * 
 
 % 
 
 > 
 
 - 
 
 With a cryftalline delight ; 
 Keeping time, time, time, 
 In a sort of Runic rhyme, 
 
 Pfi To the tintinnabulation that so mufically wells 
 From the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
 
 Bells, bells, bells 
 Y From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. ^ 
 
 Hear the mellow wedding bells, 
 
 Ijj^ Golden bells ! ^ 
 
 f:^ 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, 
 
 ' 
 
 
 i 
 
 And all in tune, 
 What a liquid ditty floats 
 To the turtle-dove that liftens, while fhe gloats 
 
 On the moon ! 
 
 Oh from out the sounding cells, 
 What a gufh of euphony voluminoufly wells 
 How it swells ! 
 How it dwells 
 
 Y^:.:-. Y -
 
 On the Future ! how it tells 
 Of the rapture that impels 
 To the swinging and the ringing 
 
 Of the bells, bells, bell?, 
 Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
 
 Bells, bells, bells, 
 To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells ! 
 
 Hear the loud alarum bells 
 
 Brazen bells ! 
 
 What a tale of terror now their turbulency tells ! 
 In the ftartled ear of night 
 How they scream out their affright ! 
 Too much horrified to speak, 
 They can only fhriek, fhriek, 
 
 Out of tune, 
 
 In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, 
 In a mad expoftulation with the deaf and frantic fire, 
 Leaping higher, higher, higher, 
 With a desperate defire, 
 And a resolute endeavor, 
 Now now to fit or never, 
 
 ^K
 
 Yet the ear diftin&ly tells 
 
 37 
 
 By the fide of the pale-faced moon 
 Oh the bells, bells, bells ! 
 What a tale their terror tells 
 
 Of Despair ! 
 
 How they clang and clafh 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 ; 
 
 In the jangling, 
 And the wrangling, 
 How the danger finks and swells, 
 By the finking or the swelling in the anger of 
 the bells 
 
 Of the bells 
 Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
 
 Bells, bells, bells 
 In the clamor and the clangor of the bells !
 
 Hear the tolling of the bells 
 
 Iron bells ! 
 What a world of solemn thought their monody 
 
 compels ! 
 
 In the filence of the night, ( 
 
 How we fhiver with affright 
 At the melancholy menace of their tone ! 
 For every sound that floats 
 From the ruft within their throats 
 
 Is a groan 
 
 And the people ah the people 
 They that dwell up in the fteeple, 
 
 All alone, 
 And who tolling, tolling, tolling, 
 
 In that muffled monotone, 
 Feel a glory in so rolling 
 
 On the human heart a ftone 
 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, 
 
 (
 
 39 
 
 A pean 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. 
 
 Edgar A. Poe.
 
 K<K&.-> 
 
 THE SPIRE OF STRASBURG 
 CATHEDRAL. 
 
 Night and j/orw. LUCIFER, ow/A /*< Powers of * 
 
 * 
 
 l O'' a S to tear oiun the Cross. 
 
 Y^ 
 
 A
 
 Throng in legions to protect it ; 
 <L They defeat us everywhere ! 
 
 
 
 THE BELLS. 
 
 Laudo Deum verum ! 
 Plebem voco ! 
 Congrego clerum ! 
 
 o 
 
 JJ| 
 
 <xvi> LUCIFER 
 
 \/O\V Lower ! lower ! 
 
 \. Hover downward ! 
 
 Seize the loud, vociferous bells, and 
 Claming, clanging, to the pavement 
 Hurl them from their windy tower! 
 
 VOICES. 
 
 All thy thunders 
 Here are harmless ! 
 For these bells have been anointed, 
 6
 
 
 
 And baptized with holy water! 
 They defy our utmoft power. 
 
 THE BELLS. 
 
 Defun&os ploro ! 
 Peftem fugo ! 
 Fefta decoro ! 
 
 LUCIFER. 
 
 Shake the casements ! 
 Break the painted 
 
 ^ 
 
 VX 
 
 Panes, that flame with gold and crim- <L/)* 
 
 son ; 
 
 Scatter them like leaves of Autumn, 
 Swept away before the blaft ! 
 
 VOICES. 
 
 O, we cannot ! 
 The Archangel
 
 \{ 
 
 r^=mv3 ! = : m-S" 
 0^0 
 
 . 
 
 Michael flames from every window, 
 
 With the sword of fire that drove us 
 
 / 
 
 Headlong, out of Heaven, aghaft ! 
 
 THE BELLS. 
 > 
 
 Funera plango ! 
 Fulgora frango ! 
 Sabbata pango ! 
 
 Ot 
 
 LUCIFER. 
 
 Ek 
 
 Aim your lightnings 
 
 At the oaken, 
 
 Maflive, iron-ftudded portals ! 
 Sack the House of God, and scatter 
 ', Wide the afhes of the dead ! 
 
 O, we cannot! 
 The Apoftles
 
 And the Martyrs, wrapped in mantles, 
 Stand as wardens at the entrance, 
 Stand as sentinels o'erhead ! 
 
 THE BELLS. 
 
 Excito lentos ! 
 Diffipo ventos ! 
 Paco cruentos! 
 
 LUCIFER. 
 
 Baffled! baffled! 
 
 Inefficient, 
 
 Craven spirits! leave this labor 
 
 Unto Time, the great Deftroyer ! 
 
 Come away, ere night is gone ! 
 
 VOICES. 
 Onward ! onward !
 
 - 
 
 4. 
 
 4 
 
 I 
 
 |T^ 
 
 ;,- 
 
 4? 
 
 >" 
 
 ^ 
 
 . 
 
 Over field and farm and foreft, 
 Lonely homeftead, darksome hamlet, 
 Blighting all we breathe upon ! 
 
 I 
 They sweep a'way. Organ and Gregorian Chant. "^ 
 
 / 
 
 No<r.e surgentes 
 Vigilemus omnes ! 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 & ( 
 
 
 J^iV 
 
 Tf 
 
 M~ 
 
 T\d 
 &
 
 ~/Sfi^' ~< 
 
 CHURCH BELLS. 
 
 " Let the hills hear thy voice." 
 
 me to-night, my mother ^ 
 dear, 
 
 That I may hear 
 The Chriftmas Bells, so soft and T 
 
 clear, 
 
 To high and low glad tidings tell, 
 How God the Father loved us well, 
 
 How God the Eternal Son 
 Came to undo what we had done, 
 
 How God the Paraclete, 
 Who in the chafte womb framed the Babe so 
 
 sweet, 
 
 In power and glory came, the birth to aid and 
 greet. 
 
 " Wake me, that I the twelvemonth long 
 
 May bear the song f 
 
 About with me in the world's throng ; 
 
 ) 
 1
 
 47 
 
 That treasured joys of Chriftmas tide 
 May with mine hour of gloom abide ; 
 
 The Chriftmas carol ring 
 Deep in my heart, when I would fing ; 
 
 Each of the twelve good days 
 Its earneft yield of duteous love and praise, 
 Ensuring happy months, and hallowing common 
 ways. 
 
 " Wake me again, my mother dear, 
 
 That I may hear 
 The peal of the departing year. 
 O well I love, the ftep of Time 
 Should move to that familiar chime : 
 
 Fair fall the tones that fteep 
 The Old Year in the dews of fleep, 
 
 The New guide softly in 
 With hopes to sweet sad memories akin ! 
 Long may that soothing cadence ear, heart, con- 
 science win." 
 
 In the dark winter, ere the snow 
 Had loft its glow,
 
 48 
 
 This melody we learned ; and lo ! 
 We hear it now in every breeze 
 That ftirs on high the summer trees. 
 
 We pause and look around 
 Where may the lone church-tower be found, 
 
 That speaks our tongue so well ? 
 The dim peal in the torrent seems to dwell, 
 It greets us from afar in Ocean's measured swell. 
 
 Perhaps we fit at home, and dream 
 
 On some high theme, 
 And forms, that in low embers gleam, 
 Come to our twilight Fancy's aid : 
 Then, wavering as that light and fhade, 
 
 The breeze will figh and wail, 
 
 / 
 And up and down its plaintive scale 
 
 Range fitfully, and bear 
 Meet burden to the lowly whispered air, 
 And ever the sweet bells, that charmed Life's 
 
 morn, are there. 
 
 ! 
 
 The pine-logs on the hearth sometimes 
 Mimic the chimes,
 
 49 
 
 The while on high the white wreath climbs, 
 Which seething waters upward fling, 
 In prison wont to dance and fing, 
 
 All to the same low tune. 
 But mo ft it loves in bowers of June 
 
 At will to come and go, 
 
 Where like a minfter roof the arched boughs fhow, 
 And court the penfive ear of loiterer far below. 
 
 1 
 Be mine at vesper hour to ftray 
 
 Full oft that way, 
 
 And when the dreamy sounds decay, 
 As with the sun the gale dies down, 
 Then far away, from tower or town, 
 
 A true peal let me hear, 
 In manifold melodious cheer, 
 
 Through all the lonely grove 
 Wafting a fair good-night from His high love, 
 Who (trews our world with figns from His own 
 world above. 
 
 So never with regretful eye 
 Need we descry 
 7
 
 -~. 
 
 Dark mountains in the evening fky, 
 Nor on those ears with envy think, 
 Which nightly from the cataract fhrink 
 
 In heart-ennobling fear, 
 And in the rufhing whirlwind hear, 
 
 (When from his highland cave 
 He sweeps unchained over the wintry wave,) 
 Ever the same deep chords, such as home fancies 
 crave. 
 
 Ever the same, yet ever new, 
 
 Changed and yet true, 
 Like the pure heaven's unfailing blue, 
 Which varies on from hour to hour, 
 Yet of the same high Love and Power 
 
 Tells alway : such may seem 
 Through life, or waking or in dream, 
 
 The echoing Bells that gave 
 Our childhood welcome to the healing wave : 
 Such the remembered Word, so mighty then to 
 
 save. 
 
 Keble.
 
 
 ST. SYLVAN'S BELL. 
 
 Desire of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine 
 inheritance, and the utmost parts of the earth for thy pos- 
 session. Psalter. 
 
 FORTNIGHT it was from Whit- 
 suntide, 
 
 And a service was said that day, 
 In a little church, that a good man 
 built 
 
 In the wilderness far away. 
 A twelvemonth before, and there was not there 
 
 Or temple or holy bell ; 
 But the place it was free from holiness 
 As the soul of the Infidel. 
 
 Five thousand years this world is old, 
 
 And twice four hundred more, 
 And that green spot had foreft beea 
 
 From the eldeft days of yore :
 
 7 
 ) 
 J 
 
 D 
 
 And there had the red-man made his hut, 
 
 And the savage beaft his lair, 
 But never, fince this old earth was young, 
 
 Was it hallowed with Chriftian prayer. 
 
 But now, for the firft, a bell rung out, 
 
 Through the aifles of the wild greenwood, 
 And echo came back from the far, far trees, 
 
 Like the holla of Robin Hood : 
 And the red-deer woke, in his bofky nook, 
 
 That ftrange, ftrange sound to hear, 
 And the jeflamine-buds from his fide he fhook, 
 
 And he liftened awhile in fear. 
 
 But the bell that rings for the Prince of Peace 
 
 Is never a beaft's alarm, 
 And down went his antlered head agen, 
 
 Like an infant afleep on its arm : 
 And the woodman went by, and ftirred him not, 
 
 With his wife and children round, 
 And the baby leaped up on its mother's breaft, 
 
 And laughed at the church-bell's sound.
 
 For the babe, he was all unchriftened yet, 
 
 And well might he leap for joy ; 
 A fountain was gufhing, where rung that bell, 
 
 That fliould make him a Chriftian boy ! 
 And his mother (he thought of the Catechift, 
 
 And me blefTed the LORD above, 
 That her child mould be baptized for CHRIST, 
 
 And taught in his fear and love. 
 
 And me prayed in her heart, as Hannah prayed, 
 He might kneel in the chancel fair, 
 
 Like children they brought to the LORD of old, 
 To be bleft with the Bifhop's prayer : 
 
 And me saw, far off, the vefted prieft, 
 \ The ring, and the marriage-bann, 
 
 Making some maiden a happy wife, 
 And her boy a happier man. 
 
 And the bell rung on ; and the wood sent forth, 
 From their log-built homes around, 
 
 The yeomanry all with their families, 
 A-wondering at the sound j
 
 
 And tears I saw in an old man's eye, 
 
 That came from a far countree j 
 It minded his inmoft soul, he said, 
 
 Of the church-bells over the sea. 
 
 For a boy was he, in England, once, 
 
 And he loved the merry chimes ; 
 Had heard them ring out of a Whitsuntide, 
 
 And waken the holiday-times ! 
 And a boy was he when hither he came, 
 
 But now he was old and gray ; 
 He had not thought that a Chriftian bell 
 
 Should toll on his burial-day. 
 
 A boy was he when he firft swung axe 
 
 Againft the ftrong oak limb ; 
 He was gray-haired now, when he heard the 
 
 bell, 
 
 And threw it away from him ; 
 And he followed the sound for he thought of 
 home, 
 
 'V- 7 ^ 4 *^\-^>
 
 And the motherly hand so fair, 
 That led him along through the churchyard 
 
 mounds, 
 And made him kneel down to prayer. 
 
 And now did an organ's peal break out, 
 
 And the bell-notes died away : 
 And a holy Bimop, in robes, was there, 
 
 And priefts in their white array. 
 And I heard a voice go up the nave, 
 
 And the priefts, responding plain ; 
 " Lift up your heads, ye gates " they said., 
 
 " For the King of Glory's train ! " 
 
 And I could not but weep, for I knew, on 
 
 high, 
 
 The Saviour had afked of GOD, 
 That the utmoft lands might all be his, 
 
 And the ground whereon I trod ; 
 V And I blefled the good LORD, that here at 
 length 
 
 
 0*^0- 
 
 jOi ~J-^f ~-' _'_^
 
 His own true heralds came, 
 To challenge for CHRIST his heritage, 
 And hallow it with His Name. 
 
 Now pray with me, that ever there 
 
 St. Sylvan's bell may ring, 
 And the yeoman brave, with their chil- 
 dren all, 
 
 The praise of the Saviour fing : 
 And pray ye ftill, that, further weft, 
 The song of the bell may sound, 
 Till the land, from sea to sea, is bleft, 
 And the world is holy ground. 
 
 Arthur C. Coxe. 
 
 > 

 
 
 GODMINSTER CHIMES. 
 
 w 
 
 I511ODMINSTER ! is it Fancy's \ 
 
 jyM i3(ci * 
 
 ?|W la ? 
 
 l3ij I know not, but the word 
 
 Sings in my heart, nor can I say 
 
 I dreamed the name, or heard ; 
 Yet fragrant in my mind it clings 
 
 As bloflbms after rain, 
 And builds of half-remembered things 
 
 This vifion in my brain. 
 
 Through aifles of long-drawn centuries 
 
 My spirit walks in thought, 
 And to that symbol lifts its eyes 
 
 Which God's own pity wrought ; 
 From Calvary (bines the altar's gleam, 
 
 The Church's eaft is there,
 
 The ages one great minfter seem 
 That throbs with praise and prayer. 
 
 And, all the way from Calvary down, 
 
 The carven pavement fhows 
 Their graves who won the martyr's 
 crown 
 
 And safe in God repose ; 
 The saints of many a warring creed, 
 
 Who now in heaven have learned 
 That all paths to the Father lead 
 
 Where Self the feet have spurned. 
 
 And as the myftic aifles I pace, 
 By aureoled workmen built, 
 
 Lives ending at the Cross I trace 
 Alike through grace and guilt j
 
 
 1 
 
 One Mary bathes the blefled feet 
 jpij* With ointment from her eyes, ' ' I A Uol l -' )| 7 
 
 With spikenard one, and both are 
 
 sweet, 
 For both are sacrifice. 
 
 ; Moravian hymn and Roman chant 
 
 In one devotion blend 
 To speak the soul's eternal want 
 
 Of Him, the inmoft friend ; 
 One prayer soars cleansed with martyr- 
 
 fire > 
 
 One hoarse with fmner's tears ; 
 In heaven both plain with one defire, 
 And God one mufic hears. 
 
 am! 
 
 
 While thus I dream, the bells clam out ^ 
 Upon the Sabbath air, 
 
 -DC
 
 6o 
 
 Each seems a selfifh faith to fhout, 
 
 A hoftile form of prayer ; 
 My dream is mattered, yet who knows 4 
 
 But in that heaven so near, 
 This discord into mufic flows 
 
 In God's atoning ear ? 
 
 oo O, chime of blefTed Charity, 
 
 f <r\ 
 
 Peal soon that Eafter morn 
 When Chrift for all fhall risen be 
 
 And in all hearts new-born ! 
 That Pentecoft when utterance clear 
 
 To all men fhall be given, 
 When all .can say My brother here, 
 
 And hear My son in heaven ! 
 
 J. R. Lowell. 
 Dec. 9, 1858.
 
 I flf?i HERE ' S muflc Bating in the J 
 
 breeze, 
 
 A harmony that fills 
 The moving air, and seems to come 
 
 From harps above the hills. 
 The diftant notes that float along, 
 
 O' 
 
 I 
 
 ^ Muft surely be some angel song, J 
 
 X- Too sweet for mortal ear ; 
 
 $F 
 
 ^ And only meant for those whose sense 
 Is tuned to heavenly eloquence, 
 
 SL 
 
 And holy thoughts, to hear. 
 
 A 
 
 I long to hear that sound again, I 
 
 And all my liftening powers apply, 
 
 '* 
 
 x; .->\ 
 f 
 

 
 Tis filence all, and with the wind 
 
 The song has floated by. 
 But hark ! there is a trembling note, 
 That in the diftance seems to float, 
 
 Like far-off echoes of the ftrain, 
 
 It kindles, it revives again, 
 The diftant sounds approach more nigh, 
 
 And all once more is harmony. 
 
 The bells which peal from that old 
 tower 
 
 Have been baptized with holy rite, 
 For that alone would give the power 
 
 Such solemn feelings to excite. 
 There is a cadence in the tone 
 That speaks of other worlds alone, 
 For sure no voice of earthly song 
 Could to those trembling notes belong,
 
 1 
 
 <J^EK 
 W^Mm 
 
 That from some choir of harmony 
 Floating suspended in the fky 
 Vifit us here below. 
 
 And whether it may be the knell 
 Of parting soul, or marriage bell, 
 The solemn message seems to swell 
 With sound prophetic, to impart 
 Some future leflbn to the heart, 
 And from the present, or the paft, 
 Recall the wandering thoughts, to cart 
 O er coming times, some transient . c 
 glow, o 
 
 Or some impending fhadow throw 
 On future scenes of weal or woe. 
 From a Friend. 
 
 /"W 
 
 \jMin
 
 FROM "URANIA, A RHYMED LESSON." 
 
 T 
 
 HE air is hufhed ; the v ftreet is holy ground ; 
 
 come sound ; 
 
 As one by one awakes each filent tongue, 
 It tells the turret whence its voice is flung, 
 The Chapel, la ft of sublunary things 
 That mocks our echoes with the name of Kings, 
 Whose bell, juft gliftening from the font and forge, i 
 Rolled its proud requiem for the second George, 
 Solemn and swelling as of old it rang, 
 Flings to the wind its deep, sonorous clang ; 
 The fimpler pile, that, mindful of the hour 
 When Howe's artillery fhook its half-built tower, 
 Wears on its bosom, as a bride might do, 
 The iron breaftpin which the " Rebels " threw, 
 Wakes the fharp echoes with the quivering thrill 
 Of keen vibrations, tremulous and fhrill ; 
 Aloft, suspended in the morning's fire, 
 Cram the vaft cymbals from the Southern spire ; 
 The Giant, ftanding by the elm-clad green,
 
 1 
 
 65 
 
 ) His white lance lifted o'er the filent scene, 
 Whirling in air his brazen goblet round, 
 Swings from its brim the swollen floods of sound ; ' 
 While, sad with memories of the olden time, 
 The Northern minftrel pours her tender chime, 
 Faint, Tingle tones, that spell their ancient song, ;> 
 But tears ftill follow as they breathe along. 
 
 O. W. Holmes. 
 
 FROM "IN MEMORIAM, CIV." 
 
 ING out wild bells to the wild fky, 
 ^T\ The flying cloud, the frofty light : 
 
 The year is dying in the night ; 
 Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 
 
 Ring out the old, ring in the new, 
 
 Ring, happy bells, across the snow: 
 The year is going, let him go ; 
 
 Ring out the false, ring in the true. 
 
 J 
 Ring out the grief that saps the mind, ( 
 
 For those that here we see no more ; 
 9
 
 66 
 
 Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 
 Ring in redress to all mankind. 
 
 Ring out a flowly dying cause, 
 
 And ancient forms of party ftrife ; 
 Ring in the nobler modes of life, 
 
 With sweeter manners, purer laws. 
 
 Ring out the want, the care, the fin, 
 The faithless coldness of the times ; 
 Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, 
 
 But ring the fuller minftrel in. 
 
 Ring out false pride in place and blood, 
 The civic flander and the spite ; 
 Ring in the love of truth and right, 
 
 Ring in the common love of good. 
 
 Ring out old fhapes of foul disease, 
 
 Ring out the narrowing luft of gold ; 
 Ring out the thousand wars of old, 
 
 Ring in the thousand years of peace.
 
 s- 
 
 p 
 
 Ring in the valiant man and free, 
 
 The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
 Ring out the darkness of the land, 
 
 Ring in the Chrift that is to be. 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 THOSE EVENING BELLS. 
 
 JHOSE evening bells ! those evening 
 
 bells ! 
 
 How many a tale their mufic tells, 
 Of youth, and home, and that sweet time, 
 When laft I heard their soothing chime. 
 
 Those joyous hours are paft away ; 
 And many a heart that then was gay, 
 Within the tomb now darkly dwells, 
 And hears no more those evening bells. 
 
 And so 'twill be when I am gone ; 
 That tuneful peal will ftill ring on, 
 While other bards mail walk these dells, 
 And fing your praise, sweet evening bells ! 
 
 Moore.
 
 
 FROM "THE GOLDEN LEGEND." 
 
 )OR the bells themselves are the beft of 
 
 preachers ; 
 
 Their brazen lips are learned teachers, 
 From their pulpits of ftone, in the upper air, 
 Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw, 
 Shriller than trumpets under the Law, 
 Now a sermon and now a prayer. 
 The clangorous hammer is the tongue, 
 This way, that way, beaten and swung, 
 That from mouth of brass, as from Mouth of 
 
 Gold, 
 
 May be taught the Teftaments, New and Old. 
 And above it the great crofT-beam of wood 
 Representeth the Holy Rood, 
 Upon which, like the bell, our hopes are hung. 
 And the wheel wherewith it is swayed and rung 
 Is the mind of man, that round and round 
 
 . 
 
 . 
 
 - 
 
 I 
 
 , 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 > 
 
 
 
 } 
 
 f ^^ *^*r-^ *^*t~f*
 
 o 
 
 / 
 
 : : 
 
 Sways, and maketh the tongue to sound ! 
 
 And the rope, with its twifted cordage three, 
 
 Denoteth the Scriptural Trinity 
 
 Of Morals, and Symbols, and Hiftory ; 
 
 And the upward and downward motions {how 
 
 That we touch upon matters high and low ; 
 
 And the conftant change and transmutation 
 
 Of action and of contemplation, 
 
 Downward, the Scripture brought from on high, 
 
 Upward, exalted again to the fky ; 
 
 Downward, the literal interpretation, 
 
 Upward, the Vifion and Myftery ! 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 FROM "IN MEMORIAM, XXVIII." 
 
 time draws near the birth of 
 Chrift : 
 
 moon is hid ; the night is ftill j 
 The Chriftmas bells from hill to hill 
 Answer each other in the mift. 
 
 T
 
 70 
 
 Four voices of four hamlets round, 
 
 From far and near, on mead and moor, 
 Swell out and fail, as if a door 
 
 Were fhut between me and the sound : 
 
 Each voice four changes on the wind, 
 That now dilate, and now decrease, 
 Peace and good-will, good-will and peace, 
 
 Peace and good-will, to all mankind. 
 
 This year I flept and woke with pain, 
 I almoft wifhed no more to wake. 
 
 i y 
 
 And that my hold on life would break. 
 
 ' . 
 
 Before I heard those bells again : 
 
 M 
 But they my troubled spirit rule, f 
 
 For they controlled me when a boy ; 
 They bring me sorrow touched with joy, 
 The merry, merry bells of Yule. 
 
 \ 
 
 5r
 
 HOW SOFT THE MUSIC OF THOSE 
 VILLAGE BELLS. 
 
 )OW soft the mufic of those village bells, 
 Falling at intervals upon the ear 
 In cadence sweet, now dying all away, 
 Now pealing loud again, and louder ftill, 
 Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on ! 
 With easy force it opens all the cells 
 Where Memory flept. Wherever I have heard 
 A kindred melody, the scene recurs, 
 And with it all its pleasures and its pains. 
 Such comprehenfive views the spirit takes, 
 That in a few fhort moments I retrace 
 (As in a map the voyager his course) 
 The windings of my way through many years. 
 
 Coivper.
 
 S when the fturdy ringers, spent at laft, 
 
 Forsake the heated ropes, and all around 
 Collect in liftening groups, what time the sound j; \ 
 Of harmonies aerial is caft 
 In one completed cadence, far and faft 
 Across the dark, or thro' the hufh profound 
 Of early dawning, deftly interwound 
 With waking bird-note, " night is overpaft ; " 
 So nave we heard the various descant rung 
 From many a poet's heart, (like ivied towers 
 Vocal within, if seeming cold and dull,) 
 And now their tales are told, their songs are sung, 
 Prolonged vibrations on our thoughtful hours 
 Are chiming yet, divinely mufical !
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library 
 
 from which it was borrowed. 
 
 

 
 A 000 407 622 

 
 lp 
 
 
 
 IliiHwBMinl 
 
 iKJiSj^SSSSsiSi