An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young

A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young.

"Wretches! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride,

And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her-that she died!

How shall the ritual, then, be read? the requiem how be sung

By you-by yours, the evil eye,-by yours, the slanderous tongue

That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?"

Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song

Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong!

The sweet Lenore hath "gone before,” with Hope, that flew beside,

Leaving thee wild for the dear child that should have been thy bride

For her, the fair and debonair, that now so lowly lies,

The life upon her yellow hair but not within her eyes.

The life still there, upon her hair-the death upon her eyes.

"Avaunt! to-night my heart is light. No dirge will I upraise,

But waft the angel on her flight with a pæan of old days!

Let no bell toll!-lest her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth,

Should catch the note, as it doth float up from the

damned Earth.

To friends above, from friends below, the indignant ghost is riven

From Hell unto a high estate far up within the Heaven

From grief and groan, to a golden throne, beside The King of Heaven."

THE BELLS.

HEAR the sledges with the bells-
Silvery bells!

What a world of merriment their melody fortells!
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 tintinabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells
Bells, bells, bells-

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!

What a world of happiness their harmony fortells!
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!

Oh! 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 made expostulation with the deep and frantic

fire

Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now-now to sit or never,

By the side of the pale-faced moon.

Oh, 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, bell, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells

In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

Hear the tolling of the bells-
Iron bells!

What a word 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,

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 the 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 groaning of the bells.