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And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, That sucked the honey of his music vows, Now see that noble and most sovereign reason Like sweet bells jangled, out of time and harsh, That unmatched form and feature of blown youth Blasted with ecstasy.
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And the Sabbath bell, That over wood and wild and mountain dell Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy With sounds most musical, most melancholy.
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And this be the vocation fit, For which the founder fashioned it; High, high above earth’s life, earth’s labor E’en to the heaven’s blue vault to soar. To hover as the thunder’s neighbor, The very firmament explore. To be a voice as from above Like yonder stars so bright and clear, That praise their Maker as they move, And usher in the circling year. Tun’d be its metal mouth alone To things eternal and sublime. And as the swift wing’d hours speed on May it record the flight of time!
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Around, around, Companions all, take your ground, And name the bell with joy profound! Concordia is the world we’ve found Most meet to express the harmonious sound, That calls to those in friendship bound.
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Bell, book and candle, shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.
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Bell, thou soundest merrily, When the bridal party To the church doth hie! Bell, thou soundest solemnly, When, on Sabbath morning, Fields deserted lie!
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Bells call others, but themselves enter not into the Church.
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Curfew must not ring to-night.
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Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim!
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For bells are the voice of the church; They have tones that touch and search The hearts of young and old.
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Hark! the bonny Christ-Church bells, One, two, three, four, five, six; They sound so woundy great, So wound’rous sweet, And they troul so merrily.
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Hark, how chimes the passing bell! There’s no music to a knell; All the other sounds we hear, Flatter, and but cheat our ear. This doth put us still in mind That our flesh must be resigned, And, a general silence made, The world be muffled in a shade. Orpheus’ lute, as poets tell, Was but moral of this bell, And the captive soul was she, Which they called Eurydice, Rescued by our holy groan, A loud echo to this tone.
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He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks.
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He heard the convent bell, Suddenly in the silence ringing For the service of noonday.
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Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells! 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, And all in tune What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens while she gloats On the moon!
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Hear the sledges with the bells, Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night, While the stars that oversprinkle All the Heavens seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight: Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells– From the jingling and the tingling of the bells.
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How like the leper, with his own sad cry Enforcing his own solitude, it tolls! That lonely bell set in the rushing shoals, To warn us from the place of jeopardy!
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I call the Living–I mourn the Dead– I break the Lightning.
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It cometh into court and pleads the cause Of creatures dumb and unknown to the laws; And this shall make, in every Christian clime, The bell of Atri famous for all time. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,
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Keeping time, time, time, In a short Runic rhyme, To the tintin nabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells.
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