Ворон

        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 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 bells, bells, bells!

                What a tale their terror tells                        Of despair!        How they clang and clash and roar!        What a horror they outpour        In the bosom of the palpitating air!                Yet the ear, it fully knows,                        By the twanging                        And the clanging,                How the danger ebbs and flows: —        Yes, 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, bells, bells, bells,

                        Bells, bells, bells —        In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV

        Hear the folling of the bells —                        Iron bells!What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!        In the silence of the night        How we shiver with affrightAt the melancholy meaning 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,        Fell 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 Paean 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.

Колокола

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