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Bells, bells, bells, bells,
In the clamour and the clangour of the bells !

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--
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,

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 pæan of the bells-

Of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the throbbing 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 Allan Poe.

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" And whatna hauld sall we draw to,

My merry men and me?
We will gae to the house of Rodes,

To see that fair ladye.”

She had nae sooner buskit hersel',

Nor putten on her goun,
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men

Were round about the toun.

They had nae sooner sitten doun,

Nor suner said the grace,
Till Edom o’ Gordon and his men

Were closed about the place.

The ladye ran up to her touir heid,

As fast as she could drie,
To see if, by her fair speeches,

She could with him agree.

As sune as he saw the ladye fair,

And her yetts all lockit fast, He fell into a rage of wrath,

And his heart was aghast.

“ Come down to me, ye ladye fair,

Come down to me, let 's see; This night ye’se lie by my ain side,

The morn my bride sall be.”

" I winna come down, ye fause Gordon ;

I winna come doun to thee ;
I winna forsake my ain deir lord,

That is sae far frae nie."

“Gie up your house, ye fair ladye,

Gie up your house to me; Or I will burn yoursel' therein,

But and your babies thrie.”

“I winna gie 't up, thou fause Gordon,

' To nae sic traitor as thee; Though thou suld burn mysel' therein,

But and my babies thrie.”

"Set fire to the house," quoth fause Gordon,

“ Sin' better may na be; And I will burn hersel' therein,

But and her babies thrie.”

“ And ein wae worth ye, Jock, my man :

I paid ye weil your fee;
Why pu ye oot my grund-wa-stane,

Lets in the reek to me?

" And ein wae worth ye, Jock, my man !

I paid you weil your hyre ;
Why pu you oot my grund-wa-stane,

To me lets in the fyre ?"

“ Ye paid me well my hire, lady,

Ye paid me well my fee ;
But now I'm Edom of Gordon's man-

Jaun either do or die."

Oh then bespake her youngest son,

Sat on the nurse's knee, “ Dear mother, gie ower your house," he says,

“FO the reek worries me."

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