AS SLOW OUR SHIP As slow our ship her foamy track When, round the bowl, of vanished years And when, in other climes, we meet If Heaven had but assigned us To live and die in scenes like this, With some we 've left behind us! 16 24 1818. A Canadian Boat-Song As travellers oft look back at eve, Still faint behind them glowing,— Thomas Moore. 32 A CANADIAN BOAT-SONG FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime 6 Why should we yet our sail unfurl? Utawa's tide! this trembling moon Shall see us float over thy surges soon. Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers, THE BELLS HEAR the sledges with the bells Silver bells! 18 What a world of merriment their melody foretells! In the icy air of night! Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 14 Hear the mellow wedding bells, What a world of happiness their harmony fore tells! Through the balmy air of night What a liquid ditty floats The Bells To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon! O, from out the sounding cells, What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! 35 Hear the loud alarum bells- What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! How they scream out their affright! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In the clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, Leaping higher, higher, higher, Now-now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. 50 Oh, the bells, bells, bells! What a tale their terror tells How they clang, and clash, and roar! On the bosom of the palpitating air! 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 In the clamour and the clangour of the bells! 69 Hear the tolling of the bells- What a world of solemn thought their monody In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. |