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! 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, Feel 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. EDGAR ALLAN POE. (First Published after the Author’s death.) ――――:o:―――― THE SWELLS. _By Edgardo Pooh._ See the Gardens with the swells―― Noble swells! What power of foolery their presence here foretels! How they chatter, chatter, chatter, To each other left and right, What to them is any matter? Since their tailor and their hatter, Are their sole delight. Running tick, tick, tick, And hastening to Old Nick, By expending time and money on dancing, dicing, _belles_, Are the swells, swells, swells, swells, Swells, swells, swells! Are the foolish and profligate young swells.