SIR JOHN BERRY. As my first official act, in the King's name, I declare the prisoner pardoned. [Greatest excitement and cheers.] Gov. BERKELEY. [Staggering out.] It cannot be! Ah, put not thy trust in princes! FAIRFAX. [Drawing PENELOPE close to him.] Ah, Penelope, that song of thine was a true prophecy. Love has found out the way! FINIS THE BELLS EDGAR ALLAN POE I Hear the sledges with the bells- What a world of merriment their melody foretells! In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. II Hear the mellow wedding bells, What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! How they ring out their delight! And all in tune, To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats Oh, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it dwells On the future! how it tells Of the rapture that impels Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! III Hear the loud alarum bells Brazen 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, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor By the side of the pale-faced moon. What a tale their terror tells Of Despair! How they clang, and clash, and roar! On the bosom of the palpitating air! 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, bells, bells, bells, In the clamor and the clangor 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- And their king it is who tolls; Rolls A pæan from the bells! Keeping time, time, time, To the throbbing of the bells Of the bells, bells, bells— To the sobbing of the bells; As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells Of the bells, bells, bells- Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells bells To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 1849. |