30

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-

35 To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

40

Hear the loud alarum-bells-
Brazen bells! *

What a tale of terror, now,

tells!

their turbulency

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,

45 In a mad expostulation with the deaf and

50

55

60

65

*

frantic fire,

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,

Rapture, very great delight or pleasure.

Brazen bells, these are the bells that startle the sleepers in the night with the alarm of fire. Turbulency, tumult, great noise.

In the clamour and the clangour* of the bells! together."

Iron bells. these are

Hear the tolling of the bells—
Iron bells! *

the death knell or What a world of solemn thought their monody

passing bells, which

are tolled for a departing soul.

Monody, lament.

Menace, threat.

Monotone, a repetition of the same note in music.

Ghouls, demons in
Eastern fable, who
were supposed to
human
prey upon
bodies.

Paan, song of
triumph.

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!

And their king it is that tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,

Rolls

A pæan* from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the pæan 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.

THE SCRIPTORIUM.*-Longfellow.

Ir is growing dark! Yet one line more,
And then my work for to-day is o'er.
I come again to the name of the Lord!
Ere I that awful name record,*
5 That is spoken so lightly among men,

Let me pause awhile, and wash my pen;
Pure from blemish * and blot must it be
When it writes that word of mystery!

Thus have I laboured on and on,
10 Nearly through the Gospel of John.
Can it be that from the lips

15

20

25

Of this same gentle Evangelist,*

*

Ah me! when I think of that vision divine
Think of writing it, line by line,

I stand in awe of the terrible curse,

Like the trump of doom, in the closing verse.
God forgive me! if ever I

Record, write down, inscribe.

Blemish, stain or spot.

Mystery, something difficult

to under

stand.

Take aught from the book of that Prophecy, Aught, anything.

Lest my part too should be taken away

From the Book of Life on the Judgment Day.

This is well written, though I say it!

*

I should not be afraid to display it,
In open day, on the selfsame shelf,
With the writings of St. Thecla herself,

30 Or of Theodosius, who of old

Wrote the Gospels in letters of gold!
That goodly folio* standing yonder,
Without a single blot or blunder,

Would not bear away the palm* from mine,

35 If we should compare them line for line.

*

There, now, is an initial* letter!

Saint Ulric himself never made a better !
Finished down to the leaf on the snail,
Down to the eyes on the peacock's tail!

Display, show.

Folio, a book (literally, a leaf).

The palm, the prize.

Initial, the letter beginning a name.

Scriptorium, a place set apart for transcribing, illuminating, and writing books. This extract is taken from The Golden Legend.

How the swallows twitter under the eaves !
There, now, there is one in her nest;

Gospel, good tidings; there are four of them.

Parley, to speak, to confer.

I can just catch a glimpse of her head and breast.
And will sketch her thus in her quiet nook,
For the margin of my Gospel * book.

I can see no more! Through the valley yonder
A shower is passing; I hear the thunder
Mutter its curses in the air,

The Devil's own and only prayer!

The dusty road is brown with rain,
And, speeding on with might and main,
Hitherward rides a gallant train.
They do not parley,* they cannot wait,
But hurry in at the convent-gate.
What a fair lady! and beside her

60

65

70

Corridor, a passageway.

Maries, the holy women who ministered to Jesus Christ.

It will do for the face of some beautiful Saint,
Or for one of the Maries* I shall paint.

I will go down to the corridor,'

75

And try to see that face once more;

THE SHIPWRECK.-Byron.

THERE were two fathers in this ghastly* crew,
And with them their two sons, of whom the one
Was more robust * and hardy to the view;

But he died early: and when he was gone,
5 His nearest messmate* told his sire, who threw
One glance on him, and said, "Heaven's will be
done!

I can do nothing ;" and he saw him thrown
Into the deep, without a tear or groan.

Ghastly, ghost-like, pale, hideous. Robust, strong, healthy. Messmate, a

mate or com

panion who eats at the same table with another.

The other father had a weaklier child,

ΙΟ

Of a soft cheek, and aspect* delicate;
But the boy bore up long, and with a mild
And patient spirit held aloof his fate :
Little he said, and now and then he smiled,*
As if to win a part from off the weight
15 He saw increasing on his father's heart,

20

With the deep, deadly thought, that they must part.

And o'er him bent his sire,* and never raised

Sire, father.

His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam
From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed:
And when the wished-for* shower at length was Wished-for.

come,

And the boy's eyes, which the dull film half glazed,
Brightened, and for a moment seemed to roamı,
He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain
Into his dying child's mouth; but in vain!

25 The boy expired. The father held the clay,

And looked upon it long; and when at last
Death left no doubt, and the dead burden lay
Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past,
He watched it wistfully until away

*

&c., the rain so much desired, for the boy was dying of thirst.

30

'Twas borne by the rude wave wherein 'twas cast; Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering,* Shivering, And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering.*

Wistfully, longingly.

trembling.

Quivering, shaking.

'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down
Over the waste of waters; like a veil,

35 Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown
Of one whose hate is masked but to assail.*
Thus to their hopeless eyes the night was shown,
And grimly darkled * o'er their faces pale,