Poe wrote this poem about the church bells of Fordham
University, which rang right next to when he lived in
the Bronx in 1845.
One hundred and 24 years later, hip-hop was born three
miles away from this very same spot.
This poem has beautiful cadences and rhythms, just
listen.
Hear the sledges with the bells - Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, in the icy air of
night!
With the stars that oversprinkle With a crystalline
delight;
Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation resonating very fine
From the jingling and tinkling of the mellow wedding
bells
Golden bells! What a world of happiness we know they
must fortell!
Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their
delight! -
From the molten - golden notes, And all in tune, hella
tight
While a liquid ditty floats, on the moon from sounding
cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells! How it dwells On the Future! - how it
tells
To the swinging and the ringing Of the rapture that
impels
Of the bells, bells, bells - Check the bells, bells,
bells,
Go to sleep to the rhyming and the chiming of the bells
[CHORUS:]
Rock the Bells
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 horrified to speak, only shriek, and ignite
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
A mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher, with a deep desperate
desire,
And a resolute endeavor that accentuates the pyre
Now - now to sit, or never, by the side of the moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells! Know that terror's coming
soon
How they clang, and they roar! What a horror they
outpour
On the bosom of the air, with eternity in store
How the danger ebbs and flows with the twanging, And
the clanging,
Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the
wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells, in the anger of the
bells -
Of the bells - Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells
Go to sleep to the clamor and the clanging of the
bells!
[REPEAT CHORUS]
Hear the tolling of the bells - Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night, How we shiver with
affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone! It excites
All alone hear it float like the rust within our
throats, it's a groan
And the people - ah, the people - in the steeple, All
alone,
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled
monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone -
They are neither man nor woman - neither brute nor
human
They are ghouls and their king well he rolls and he
rules
A paean from the bells as his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells! As he dances, and he
yells; (peein')
Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells: - To the throbbing of the
bells -
Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells,
Go to sleep to the moaning and the groaning of the
bells.
