| |
| TINTADGEL bells ring o’er the tide, | |
| The boy leans on his vessel side; | |
| He hears that sound, and dreams of home | |
| Soothe the wild orphan of the foam. | |
| “Come to thy God in time!” | 5 |
| Thus saith their pealing chime: | |
| Youth, manhood, old age past, | |
| “Come to thy God at last.” | |
| |
| But why are Bottreau’s echoes still? | |
| Her tower stands proudly on the hill; | 10 |
| Yet the strange chough that home hath found, | |
| The lamb lies sleeping on the ground. | |
| “Come to thy God in time!” | |
| Should be her answering chime: | |
| “Come to thy God at last!” | 15 |
| Should echo on the blast. | |
| |
| The ship rode down with courses free, | |
| The daughter of a distant sea: | |
| Her sheet was loose, her anchor stor’d, | |
| The merry Bottreau bells on board. | 20 |
| “Come to thy God in time!” | |
| Rung out Tintadgel chime; | |
| Youth, manhood, old age past, | |
| “Come to thy God at last!” | |
| |
| The pilot heard his native bells | 25 |
| Hang on the breeze in fitful swells; | |
| “Thank God,” with reverent brow he cried, | |
| “We make the shore with evening’s tide.” | |
| “Come to thy God in time!” | |
| It was his marriage chime: | 30 |
| Youth, manhood, old age past, | |
| His bell must ring at last. | |
| |
| “Thank God, thou whining knave, on land, | |
| But thank, at sea, the steersman’s hand,” | |
| The captain’s voice above the gale: | 35 |
| “Thank the good ship and ready sail.” | |
| “Come to thy God in time!” | |
| Sad grew the boding chime: | |
| “Come to thy God at last!” | |
| Boom’d heavy on the blast. | 40 |
| |
| Uprose that sea! as if it heard | |
| The mighty Master’s signal-word: | |
| What thrills the captain’s whitening lip? | |
| The death-groans of his sinking ship. | |
| “Come to thy God in time!” | 45 |
| Swung deep the funeral chime: | |
| Grace, mercy, kindness past, | |
| “Come to thy God at last!” | |
| |
| Long did the rescued pilot tell— | |
| When gray hairs o’er his forehead fell, | 50 |
| While those around would hear and weep— | |
| That fearful judgment of the deep. | |
| “Come to thy God in time!” | |
| He read his native chime: | |
| Youth, manhood, old age past, | 55 |
| His bell rung out at last. | |
| |
| Still when the storm of Bottreau’s waves | |
| Is wakening in his weedy caves, | |
| Those bells, that sullen surges hide, | |
| Peal their deep notes beneath the tide: | 60 |
| “Come to thy God in time!” | |
| Thus saith the ocean chime: | |
| Storm, billow, whirlwind past, | |
| “Come to thy God at last!” | |
| |
