12. " And more, much more,—for now

The life-sealed fountains of my nature move,—
To nurse and purify this human love,—

To clear the godlike brow
Of weakness and mistrust, and bow it down
Worthy and beautiful, to the much-loved one,—

13. " This were indeed to feel

The soul-thirst slaken at the living stream,—
To live,—O God! that life is but a dream!

And deaths Aha ! I reel,—

Dim,—dim,—I faint,—darkness comes o'er my eye,—
Cover me! save me ! God of Heaven ! I die ! "

14. 'Twas morning, and the old man lay alone.
No friend has closed his eyelids, and his lips,
Open and ashy pale, th' expression wore

Of his death-struggle. His long silvery hair
Lay on his hollow temples thin and wild,
His frame was wasted, and his features wan
And haggard as with want, and in his palm
His nails were driven deep, as if the'throe
Of the last agony had wrung him sore.

LXXVIII.—THE BELLS.

Edgar A. Poe.

1. 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 tinkling of the bells,

2. 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.

3. 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 the 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,
And a resolute endeavor, now—now to sit or never,

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 oar 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 !

4. 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, rolls,
A paean from the bells ! and his merry bosom swells
With the paian of the bells ! and he dances and he yells :
Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the paean 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 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.

LXXIX.—THE OLD CONTINENTALS.

Goy Hdmphrey Mcmastee.

1. In their ragged regimentals
Stood the old Continentals,

Yielding not,
When the Grenadiers were lunging,
And like hail fell the plunging

Cannon-shot:

When the files

Of the isles,

From the smoky night encampment, bore the banner of the rampant Unicorn,

And grummer, grummer, giummer rolled the roll of the drummer,
Through the morn!

2. Then with eyes to the front all,
And with guns horizontal,

Stood our sires;
And the balls whistled deadly,
And in streams flashing redly

Blazed the fires;

As the roar

On the shore,

Swept the strong battle-breakers o'er the green-sodded acres
Of the plain;

And louder, louder, louder, cracked the black gunpowder,
Cracking amain!

3. Now like smiths at their forges
Worked the red St. George's

Cannoniers ;
And the " villainous saltpetre "
Rang a fierce, discordant metre

Round their ears;

As the swift
Storm-drift,

With hot sweeping anger, came the horse-guards' clangor
On our flanks.

Then higher, higher, higher, burned the old-fashioned fire Through the ranks!

i. Then the old-fashioned Colonel
Galloped through the white infernal

Powder-cloud;
And his broad sword was swinging,
And his brazen throat was ringing
Trumpet loud.
Then the blue
Bullets flew,

And the trooper-jackets redden at the touch of the leaden
Rifle-breath.

And rounder, rounder, rounder, roared the iron six-poundc Hurling death!

LXXX.—ONCE I WAS PURE.

1. O ! The snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and the earth below-:
Over the housetops, over the street,
Over the heads of the people you meet,

Dancing,

Flirting,

Skimming along,
Beautiful snow ! It can do nothing wrong,
Flying to kiss a fair lady's check,
Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak,
Beautiful snow from the heaven above
Pure as an angel, as gentle as love !

2. O ! the snow, the beautiful snow,

How the flakes gather and laugh as they go !
Whirling about in its maddening fun,
It plays in its glee with every one,
Chasing,

Laughing,

Hurrying by,
It lights up the face and it sparkles the eye !
And oven the dogs, with a bark and a bound,
Snap at the crystals that eddy around :
The town is alive, and its heart in a glow,
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow.

3. How the wild crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humor and song !
How the gay sledges, like meteors, flash by,
Bright for the moment, then lost to the eye ;

Ringing,

Swinging,

Dashing they go,
Over the crest of the beautiful snow ;
Snow so pure when it falls from the sky,
To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by,
To be trampled and tracked by the thousands of feet,
Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street.

4. Once I was pure as the snow—but I fell!
Fell like the snow-flakes from heaven to hell:
Fell to be trampled as filth in the street:
Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat:

Pleading,

Cursing,

Dreading to die,
Selling my soul to whoever would buy,
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread,
Hating the living and fearing the dead :
Merciful God ! have I fallen so low ?
And yet I was once like the beautiful snow.

5. Once I was fair as the beautiful snow,

With an eye like its crystal, a heart like its glow:
Once I was loved for my innocent grace—
Flattered and sought for the charms of my face :
Father,

Mother,

Sisters all, . .

God, and myself, I have lost by my fall.
The veriest wretch that goes shivering by,
Will take a wide sweep lest I wander too nigh ;
For all that is on or above me, I know,
There is nothing as pure as the beautiful snow.

6. How strange it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go !

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