I hear the bells from yon imposing tow’r; The bells of Yuletide o’er a troubled night;Pealing with mock’ry in a dismal hour Upon a world upheav’d with greed and fright.Their mellow tones on myriad roofs resound; A million restless souls attend the chime;Yet falls their message on a stony ground — Their spirit slaughter’d with the sword of Time.Why ring in counterfeit of happy years When calm and quiet rul’d the placid plain?Why with familiar strains arouse the tears Of those who ne’er may know content again?How well I knew ye once – so long ago — When slept the ancient village on the slope;Then rang your accents o’er the starlit snow In gladness, peace, and sempiternal hope.In fancy yet I view the modest spire; The peaked roof, cast dark against the moon;The Gothic windows, glowing with a fire That lent enchantment to the brazen tune.Lovely each snow-drap’d hedge beneath the beams That added silver to the silver there;Graceful each col, each lane, and all the streams, And glad the spirit of the pine-ting’d air.A simple creed the rural swains profess’d, In simple bliss among the hills they dwelt;Their hearts were light, their honest souls at rest; Cheer’d with the joys by reas’ning mortals felt.But on the scene a hideous blight intrudes; A lurid nimbus hovers o’er the land;Demoniac shapes low’r black above the woods, And by each door malignant shadows stand.The jester Time stalks darkly thro’ the mead; Beneath his tread contentment dies away.Hearts that were light with causeless anguish bleed, And restless souls proclaim his evil sway.Conflict and change beset the tott’ring world; Wild thoughts and fancies fill the common mind;Confusion on a senile race is hurl’d, And crime and folly wander unconfin’d.I hear the bells – the mocking cursed bells That wake dim memories to haunt and chill;Ringing and ringing o’er a thousand hells — Fiends of the Night – why can ye not be still?