With a crystaline 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 tinkling of the beus.

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,
All in tune,

What a liquid ditty floats

To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!

O, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
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 —

To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

Hear the loud alarum bells
Brazen bells!

What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
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,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,

By the side of the pale-faced moon.
O, the bells, bells, bells!

What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!

How they clang, and clash, and roar !
What a horror they outpour

On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear, it fully knows,
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.

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
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

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!
Thy lovely form, the flower-decked field discloses,
Thy smiles are seen in Nature's sunny face;
Milk-colored lilies and wild-blushing roses

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,
In terrible sublimity appear!

Thy awe-imposing voice is heard, we hear it!
The Almighty's fearful voice; attend! it breaks
The silence, and in solemn warning speaks;
His the light tones that whisper midst the trees;
His, his the whistling of the busy breeze;
His, the storm-thunder roaring, rattling round,
When element with element makes war
Amidst the echoing mountains; on whose bound,
Whose highest bound, he drives his fiery car,
Glowing like molten iron; or, enshrined
In robes of darkness, rides upon the wind
Across the clouded vault of heaven. What eye

Has not been dazzled by thy majesty?

Where is the ear that has not heard thee speak?
Thou breathest! --- forest oaks of centuries
Turn their uprooted trunks towards the skies.
Thou thunderest! adamantine mountains break,
Tremble, and totter, and apart are riven!

Thou lightenest! and the rocks inflame; thy power
Of fire, to their metallic bosom driven,

Melts and devours them: -lo! they are no more: —
They pass away, like wax in the fierce flame,

Or the thick mists that frown upon
the sun,
Which he but glances at and they are gone;
Or like the sparkling snow upon the hill,
When noon-tide darts its penetrating beam.
What do I say? At God's almighty will,
The affrighted world falls headlong from its sphere!
Planets and suns and systems disappear!

But thy eternal throne thy palace bright,

Zion stands steadfast in unchanging might;
Zion - thy own peculiar seat thy home!
But here, O God! here is thy temple too :
Heaven's sapphire arch is its resplendent dome;
Its columns - trees that have for ages stood;
Its incense is the flower-perfumèd dew;

Its symphony- the music of the wood;
Its ornaments the fairest gems of spring;

Its altar is the stony mountain proud.
Lord! from this shrine to thy abode I bring,
Trembling, devotion's tribute-though not loud,
Nor pomp-accompanied: thy praise I sing,
And thou wilt deign to hear the lowly offering.

END.