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 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.

ANNABEL LEE

T was many and many a year ago,

IT

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love,
I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

Went envying her and me;

Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we,

Of many far wiser than we;

And neither the angels in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my

soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling - my darling-my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

ULALUME

HE skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crispèd

The lives they were and sere,

The leaves they were withering and sere; It was night in the lonesome October

Of my most immemorial year;

It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir:
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

Here once, through an alley Titanic

Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul-
Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul.
These were days when my heart was volcanic
As the scoriac rivers that roll,
As the lavas that restlessly roll

Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek
In the ultimate climes of the pole,
That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek
In the realms of the boreal pole.

Our talk had been serious and sober,

But our thoughts they were palsied and sere,
Our memories were treacherous and sere,

For we knew not the month was October,
And we marked not the night of the year,
(Ah, night of all nights in the year!)

We noted not the dim lake of Auber

(Though once we had journeyed down here), Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber

And

Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.

now,

as the night was senescent And star-dials pointed to morn, As the star-dials hinted of morn, At the end of our path a liquescent And nebulous lustre was born, Out of which a miraculous crescent Arose with a duplicate horn, Astarte's bediamonded crescent Distinct with its duplicate horn.

And I said

"She is warmer than Dian:
She rolls through an ether of sighs,
She revels in a region of sighs:

She has seen that the tears are not dry on
These cheeks, where the worm never dies,
And has come past the stars of the Lion
To point us the path to the skies,
To the Lethean peace of the skies:
Come up, in despite of the Lion,

To shine on us with her bright eyes:
Come up through the lair of the Lion,
With love in her luminous eyes."

But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said"Sadly this star I mistrust,
Her pallor I strangely mistrust:

Oh, hasten! - oh, let us not linger!
Oh, fly!-let us fly!- for we must.'