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THE BELLS AT MIDNIGHT
by Aldrich, Thomas Bailey [1836-1907]

I
CLOTHO
How long, O sister, how long
Ere the weary task is done?
How long, O sister, how long
Shall the fragile thread be spun?
LACHESIS
'Tis mercy that stays her hand,
Else she had cut the thread;
She is a woman too,
Like her who kneels by his bed!
ATROPOS
Patience! the end is come;
He shall no more endure:
See! with a single touch!—
My hand is swift and sure!
II
Two Angels pausing in their flight.
FIRST ANGEL
Listen! what was it fell
An instant ago on my ear—
A sound like the throb of a bell
From yonder darkling sphere!
SECOND ANGEL
The planet where mortals dwell!
I hear it not ... yes, I hear;
How it deepens—a sound of dole!
FIRST ANGEL
Listen! It is the knell
Of a passing soul—
The midnight lamentation
Of some stricken nation
For a Chieftain's soul!
It is just begun,
The many-throated moan ...
Now the clangor swells
As if a million bells
Had blent their tones in one!
Accents of despair
Are these to mortal ear;
But all this wild funereal music blown
[589]
And sifted through celestial air
Turns to triumphal pæans here!
Wave upon wave the silvery anthems flow;
Wave upon wave the deep vibrations roll
From that dim sphere below.
Come, let us go—
Surely, some chieftain's soul!
Thomas Bailey Aldrich.

Source: Project Gutenberg

Source: Project Gutenberg