The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1851-08-07
For the National Era.
LIMERICK BELLS.
INSCRIBED TO ]. @. w.
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.

They say at Limerick is q chime Of bells
Fit TO ring In the coming OF the Lord,
SO solemn sweet the melody that swells
From their bronze thrOas all pealing in secord -
Long years agOne Southern artisan
lowered with the tender genius Of bis cline,
dreamy-eyed and mellow voiced man,
Cast with rare skill this wondrous tuneful chime,
Whose very sound might draw the pagan Turk
To bow in rapture on the minister door;
And it is said this founder seemed to pour
His deep Italian soul into his work,
Like molten music; and when first high hung,
triumph.peal the bells harmonious rung,
And made Sabbath the golden air.
lie stood with clasped hands, and brow all bare,
Aud murmured liquid syllables Of prayer.
All bitterly as we the dead depOre
He vept their going-on his Bonded knees
Watching the stranger ship put of from shore,
70 bear them from him Ger the northern seas.
Years rolled around The bells at morn and even
Mad, sweetest music In the of Heaven
Voiced human worship, called to praise and prayer,
Censers Of sound, high swinging In the air.
Beneath fair Southern skies, the artisan,
weary, worn, grsy-haired, and lonely man,
Beheld the solemn death-hour darkening nigh,
And mined TO hear his bells once more and die.
Deem shades foretOd the advent of the night;
Yet goldenly on Shannon's emerald shores,
As charmed, or fallen asleep, the sunset light
Still lingered-or as there bright Day
Had dropped her mantle ere she took her flight.
Up ShannOn's tide barge slow held its way
All silent bent the bargemen 10 their oars,
For at their side dying stranger lay.
In broken accents Of a foreign tongue
&.s1Nsthsd fond names, aud murmured words o
prayer,
And yearninRly his wasted arms outhuDg,
cfupeo rer less ns&ds, N.afs.~sAl --.ras,->
Sudden upon the breeze came floating down
The sound Of yssper bells from Limerick town,
SO sweet twould seem that holiest Of chimes
Stored up new notes amid it's silent times,
Some wandering melodies from heavenly climes-
Or gathered music from the summer hours,
As bees draw sweets from tributary flowers.
Peal followed peal, till all the air around
Trembled In waves Of undulating sound
The dying stranger, where he gasping lay
Heard the sweet chime, and knew il ringing nigh
Quick from bis side the phantoms fed away,
And the last soul-light kinded In his eye!
His cold hands reaching towards the shadowy Shore
madonna, thsnks" he cried, al hear my bells once
mOre!u
Nearer they drew to Limerick, where the bells
Were raining music from the churchtower high
The pilgrim listened, till their latest swells
Shook from his heart the faintest echoing sigh;
With their sweet csasing ceased his mortal breath
So like a conqueror to the better land
Passed the worn artisan, such music grand
Uprolled before him on the heavenly path.
From the west heavens went out the sunset gold,
And Hesperus his silver lamp up-hung;
To countless pious hearts those bells had rung
The vesper chime that summoneth to pray
But to that stranger, weary, lone, and DID,
They peaed the mathis of immortal day.
Thus thou, oh poet from thy soul hast wrought
In tunef song sweet chimes Of deep-toned thought,
To sound toward heaven, high hung massive towers
That overlook the world-n silent hours,
Even in darkness, gathering note by note,
Gods deepest melodies, that float
above the tong, the sleeping earth;
70 answer grief with grief, and mirth with mirth-
10 fling sweet strains upon the path of day,
IS towers are dang npoa yieter's way
To chseruy peal amid the sssrne,
Beneath the rolling of the thunder-oars--
Ring in calm ewes, with sunset glories warm,
And sound before the coming Of the stars.
And from Thy bells we deem each latest time
We hear a clearer and grsnder chime
That fall their fsintest notes with sweetness rare
Like birds that sing in death soft dropping down the air
And when thou foatest DER that solemn river
That for It's shade the mOurnful cypress hath;
Along whose shores the fearful aspens SILVER
That stream of dread, the icy food of death,
Parting our mortal life from Gods forever
Then from the shore thou Ieapest, ali, may'st thou
Know thy true thoughts yet Ginning clear and high;
Then may the joy-light kndle in thine eye,
And smile the cold death-shaiow from thy brow,
Hearing that chime sound DER the streams sad rowing
And echoed from the land TO which thou'rt going.
Not smitng sharply on the air above,
And not in thunderbolts of sound dovn-hurled-
But ringing soft Gods peace and plying love,
And pealing His redemption DER the world.