RHYME OF THE DUCHESS MAY.
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And her head was on his breast, where she smiled as one at rest,—
Toll slowly!
'"Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell, in the beechwood's old chapelle!
But the passing-bell rings best."
Toll slowly!
'"Ring," she cried, "O vesper-bell, in the beechwood's old chapelle!
But the passing-bell rings best."
They have caught out at the rein, which Sir Guy threw loose—in vain,—
Toll slowly!
For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air,
On the last verge, rears amain.
Toll slowly!
For the horse in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air,
On the last verge, rears amain.
And he hangs, he rocks between—and his nostrils curdle in,—
Toll slowly!
And he shivers head and hoof—and the flakes of foam fall off;
And his face grows fierce and thin!
Toll slowly!
And he shivers head and hoof—and the flakes of foam fall off;
And his face grows fierce and thin!
And a look of human woe, from his staring eyes did go,—
Toll slowly!
And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony
Of the headlong death below,—
Toll slowly!
And a sharp cry uttered he, in a foretold agony
Of the headlong death below,—
And, "Ring, ring, thou passing-bell," still she cried, "i' the old chapelle!"—
Toll slowly!
Then back-toppling, crashing back—a dead weight flung out to wrack,
Horse and riders overfell!
Toll slowly!
Then back-toppling, crashing back—a dead weight flung out to wrack,
Horse and riders overfell!
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Oh, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,—
Toll slowly!
And I read this ancient Rhyme, in the kirkyard, while the chime
Slowly tolled for one at rest.
Toll slowly!
And I read this ancient Rhyme, in the kirkyard, while the chime
Slowly tolled for one at rest.
