Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1878-05-17
CURFEW MUST NOT RING TONIGHT.

This poem is founded on an incident in En-
glish history. In the days of the ProtectOrate n
ringing Of the Curfew." His friends interceded
for him in vain; and fair young girl, who was
attached To- him, pleaded with his Judges to spare
his life. at least until the hour when she could
see the stern Cromwell herself, but her efforts
were fruitless She then sought to bribe the
sexton 20 omit the Curfew for single day, but
the executiOner stood waiting the signal which,
as the poem will show, did not sound that night.
For the benefit of our younger readers we may
say that the ringing of the Curfew bell from
couVreTtU TO c0Der The Fre) was a practice estab,
lished in England by its Norman conqueror. All
the inhabitants were required to cover their hres,
extinguish their lights and retire 10 rest at night
fall. and the bell was rung as signal at the ap-
The poem was written by Miss Rosa Hartwick
now the wife of T.. @. Thorpe, of Iitchfield,
Mich) in April 1857, and was first printed in
1S70in the Detroit Commercial AdDertser.l
Slowly England's sun was setting DER the hill
tops far away,
Filling all the land with beauty at the close of
one sad day,
And the last rays kissed the forehead of man
and maiden fair
He with footsteps slow and weary-she with sun
n.y. floating hair;
He with bowed head, sad and thoughtful she
with lips all cold and white,
Struggling to keep back the murmur;
"Curfew must not ring tonight
Sexton" Bessie's white lips faltered, pointing
to the prison old,
With its ttirrets tall and gloomy, with its walls
dark, damp and cold
night to die "
At the ringing of the Curfew, and no earthly
help is nigh; =,
grew strangely white
As she breathed the husky whisper:
"Curfew must not ring tonight.
Bessie" calmly spoke the sexton-every word
81, pierced her young heart 80,
Like the piercing of an arrow, like deadly
poisoned dart
Long. long years I've rung the Curfew from
that gloomy, shadowed tower;
Every evening just at sunset, it has told the twi-
ight-hour;
have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and
Now I'm old still must do it
Curfew it must ring tonight.
And within her secret bosom Bessie made sol
emn vow.
She had listened while the Judges read, without
tear or sigh:
AT the ringing of the Curfew, Basil Underwood
must die
And her breath came fast and faster, and her
eyes grew large and bright
In an undertone she murmured:
-..'t #" Curfew must not ring tonight.
She with quick steps bounded forward, spranp
within the old church door,
Left the old man treading slowly paths so Oft
Not one moment paused the maiden, but, with
eye and cheek aglow,
Mounted up the gloomy tower, where the bel
As she climbed the dusty ladder which fell
no ray of light.
Up and up-her white lips saying;
"Curfew shall not ring tonight.
She has reached the topmost ladder-o'er hel
hangs the great dark bell;
Awful is the gloom beneath her, like the path
way down to hell.
IN = A
And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped hel
breath and paled her brow.
Shall she let it ring? No-never! Flash her eyei
with sudden light,
And she springs and grasps it firmly:
Curfew shall not ring tonight"
Out she swung--far out-the city seemed specl
of light below
'Twixt heaven and earth her form suspended, as
the bell swung to and fro;
And the sexton at the bell-rOpe old and deaf
heard not the bell,
But he thought it still was ringing fair younI
Basils funeral-knell
Still the maiden clung more firmly, and, will
trem bling lips and white,
SAID, to hush her hearts wild beating:
"Curfew shall not ring tonight"
1t was DER; the bell ceased swaying, and th
maiden stepped once more
Firmly on the dark old ladder, where for hun
dred years before
Human foot had not been planted. The brav,
deed that she had done
Should be told long ages after, the rays of set
ting sun
Should illume the sky with beauty; aged sire
with heads of white
Long should tell the little children
Curfew did not ring that night.
Der the distant hills came Cromwell Bessi
sees him, and her brow,
Full of hope and full of gladness has no anx
ious traces now.
At his feet she tells her story, showed her hand
all bruised and torn:
And her face, so sweet and pleading vet witt
sorruw pale and worn,
Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eye
with misty light
Go! your lover lives" said Cromwell:
"Ourfew shall not ring to-nightm