Nonfiction > E.C. Stedman & E.M. Hutchinson, eds. > A Library of American Literature > 1835–1860
  PREVIOUSNEXT  
CONTENTS · VOLUME CONTENTS · INDEX TO AUTHORS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
Stedman and Hutchinson, comps.  A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes.  1891.
Vols. VI–VIII: Literature of the Republic, Part III., 1835–1860
 
The Chimes of England
By Arthur Cleveland Coxe (1818–1896)
 
[From Christian Ballads. 1840.—Revised Edition. 1887.]

THE CHIMES, the chimes of Motherland,
    Of England green and old,
That out from fane and ivied tower
    A thousand years have tolled,—
How glorious must their music be        5
    As breaks the hallowed day,
And calleth with a seraph’s voice
    A nation up to pray!
 
Those chimes that tell a thousand tales,
    Sweet tales of olden time;        10
And ring a thousand memories
    At vesper, and at prime:
At bridal and at burial,
    For cottager and king—
Those chimes—those glorious Christian chimes,        15
    How blessedly they ring!
 
Those chimes, those chimes of Motherland,
    Upon a Christmas morn,
Outbreaking, as the angels did,
    For a Redeemer born!        20
How merrily they call afar,
    To cot and baron’s hall,
With holly decked and mistletoe,
    To keep the festival!
 
The chimes of England, how they peal        25
    From tower and gothic pile,
Where hymn and swelling anthem fill
    The dim cathedral aisle;
Where windows bathe the holy light
    On priestly heads that falls,        30
And stain the florid tracery
    Of banner-dighted walls!
 
And then, those Easter bells, in Spring,
    Those glorious Easter chimes!
How loyally they hail thee round,        35
    Old Queen of holy times!
From hill to hill, like sentinels,
    Responsively they cry,
And sing the rising of the Lord,
    From vale to mountain high.        40
 
I love ye—chimes of Motherland,
    With all this soul of mine,
And bless the Lord that I am sprung
    Of good old English line:
And like a son I sing the lay        45
    That England’s glory tells;
For she is lovely to the Lord,
    For you, ye Christian bells!
 
And heir of her ancestral fame,
    Though far away my birth,        50
Thee too I love, my forest-land,
    The joy of all the earth;
For thine thy mother’s voice shall be,
    And here—where God is King,
With English chimes, from Christian spires,        55
    The wilderness shall ring.
 
 
CONTENTS · VOLUME CONTENTS · INDEX TO AUTHORS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
  PREVIOUSNEXT  
 
Loading
Click here to shop the Bartleby Bookstore.

Shakespeare · Bible · Strunk · Anatomy · Nonfiction · Quotations · Reference · Fiction · Poetry
© 1993–2014 Bartleby.com · [Top 150] · Subjects · Titles · Authors