. Ballads of bravery. few shall 7iot ring to-night! She has reached the topmost ladder; oer her hangs the great, dark the awful gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to ! the ponderous tongue is swinging; t is the hour of curfew the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath, and paled her she let it ring ? No, never ! Her eyes flash with sudden she springs, and grasps it firmly : Curfew shall not ring to-night! Out she swung, — far out. The city seemed a tiny speck below, —There twixt heaven and earth suspended, as the bell swung to and fro
. Ballads of bravery. few shall 7iot ring to-night! She has reached the topmost ladder; oer her hangs the great, dark the awful gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to ! the ponderous tongue is swinging; t is the hour of curfew the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath, and paled her she let it ring ? No, never ! Her eyes flash with sudden she springs, and grasps it firmly : Curfew shall not ring to-night! Out she swung, — far out. The city seemed a tiny speck below, —There twixt heaven and earth suspended, as the bell swung to and fro;And the half-deaf sexton ringing (years he had not heard the bell).And he thought the twilight curfew rang young Basils funeral the maiden, clinging firmly, cheek and brow so pale and her frightened hearts wild beating: -Curfew shall not ring to-fiightl It was oer, the bell ceased swaying; and the maiden stepped once moreFirmly on the damp old ladder, where, for hundred years before. V©. Human foot had not been planted ; and what she this night had doneShould be told long ages after. As the rays of setting sunLight the sky with mellow beauty, aged sires, with heads of the children why the curfew did not ring that one sad night. Oer the distant hills came Cromwell. Bessie saw him ; and her brow, Lately white with sickening horror, glows with sudden beauty now. At his feet she told her story, showed her hands, all bruised and torn ; And her sweet young face, so haggard, with a look so sad and worn. Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light. Go! your lover lives, cried Cromwell. Curfew shall not ring to-night!
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookpu, booksubjectenglishpoetry
