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Hear the sledges with the balls— Silver balls! 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 tintinabulation that so musically wells From the balls, balls, balls, balls, Balls, balls, balls— From the jingling and the tinkling of the balls. II. Hear the mellow wedding balls, Golden balls! 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! 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 balls, balls, balls, Of the balls, balls, balls, balls, Balls, balls, balls— To the rhyming and the chiming of the balls! III. Hear the loud alarum balls— Brazen balls! What 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, And a resolute endeavor Now—now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh, the balls, balls, balls! 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 balls— Of the balls— Of the balls, balls, balls, balls, Balls, balls, balls— In the clamor and the clangor of the balls! IV. Hear the tolling of the balls— Iron balls! 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 pćan from the balls! And his merry bosom swells With the pćan of the balls! And he dances, and he yells; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the pćan of the balls— Of the balls: Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the balls— Of the balls, balls, balls— To the sobbing of the balls; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the balls— Of the balls, balls, balls— To the tolling of the balls, Of the balls, balls, balls, balls— Balls, balls, balls— To the moaning and the groaning of the balls. |
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Oct 20, 2023 16:51
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| # ¿ May 17, 2024 16:39 |
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