With a crystaline delight, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the jingling and the tinkling of the beus. Hear the mellow wedding bells, What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats O, from out the sounding cells, How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells — To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! Hear the loud alarum bells What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, By the side of the pale-faced moon. What a tale their terror tells How they clang, and clash, and roar ! On the bosom of the palpitating air! And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; 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 clamor and the clangor of the bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compeis 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 And the people-ah, the people- And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone To the moaning and the groaning of the bells! LESSON CLXXVIII. Address to the Deity. - BOBROV. [From Bowring's Russian Anthology.] O THOU unutterable Potentate! Through nature's vast extent sublimely great! Are bright with thee: thy voice of gentleness Speaks in the light-winged, whispering zephyrs, playing Midst the young boughs, or o'er the meadows straying; Thy breath gives life to all, below, above; And all things revel in thy light and love. But here, on these gigantic mountains, here Thy greatness, glory, wisdom, strength, and spirit, Thy awe-imposing voice is heard, we hear it! Has not been dazzled by thy majesty? Where is the ear that has not heard thee speak? Thou lightenest! and the rocks inflame; thy power Melts and devours them: -lo! they are no more: — Or the thick mists that frown upon But thy eternal throne thy palace bright, Zion stands steadfast in unchanging might; Its symphony- the music of the wood; Its altar is the stony mountain proud. END. |