Tuned be its metal mouth alone
To things eternal and sublime.
And as the swift-winged hours speed on
May it record the flight of time!
_Song of the Bell_. F. SCHILLER.
_Trans_. E.A. BOWRING.
The bells themselves are the best of preachers,
Their brazen lips are learnèd teachers,
From their pulpits of stone, in the upper air,
Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw,
Shriller than trumpets under the Law,
Now a sermon and now a prayer.
_Christus: The Golden Legend, Pt. III_.
H.W. LONGFELLOW.
And the Sabbath bell,
That over wood and wild and mountain dell
Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy
With sounds most musical, most melancholy.
_Human Life_. S. ROGERS.
Sweet Sunday bells! your measured sound
Enhances the repose profound
Of all these golden fields around,
And range of mountain, sunshine-drowned.
_Sunday Bells_. W. ALLINGHAM.
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.
_Hamlet, Act_ iii. _Sc_. 1. SHAKESPEARE.
Seize the loud, vociferous bells, and
Clashing, clanging to the pavement
Hurl them from their windy tower!
_Christus: The Golden Legend. Prologue_.
H.W. LONGFELLOW.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Remembered tolling a departing friend.
_K. Henry IV., Pt. II. Act_ i. _Sc_. 1.
SHAKESPEARE.