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IMITATIVE HARMONY. 2"]Q
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 endeavour, 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 I 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 bells ;
Of the bells— Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells, bells, In the clamour and the clangour of the bells.
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