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In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,

It struggles and howls at fits.
Over earth and ocean with gentle motion

This pilot is guiding me,
Lured by the love of the genii that move

In the depths of the purple sea.
That orbèd maiden with white fire laden

Whom mortals call the moon
Glides glimmering o'er my fleecelike floor

By the midnight breezes strewn;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,

Which only the angels hear,
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,

The stars peep behind her and peer.
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee

Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,

Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
Are each paved with the moon and these.

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PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

HELPS TO STUDY

This

poem is one that ought to make us take greater delight in both clouds and poetry. The hero, of course, is the Cloud. In the first stanza and a part of the second we learn what gifts the Cloud bestows upon the earth. In the second stanza we learn

about the Cloud's strange pilot, and in the third we see the Cloud in his tent built by the wind.

1. What six gifts does the Cloud bestow upon the earth ? 2. Which gift is usually unwelcome? 3. Who is the mother of the sweet buds? (The answer is hinted at in the eighth line of the first stanza.) 4. Who is the Cloud's pilot? Where does this pilot sit? 5. Where does he guide the Cloud? Why? 6. What beautiful visitor comes to the Cloud's tent at midnight? 7. What

swarms of golden bees”? 8. When the wind blows on a partly cloudy night, what do the stars seem to do? 9. What happens on earth when the Cloud's tent is torn apart?

are the

10. Which lines in this poem do you like best? 11. Which comparisons seem to you the most interesting ? 12. What is unusual about the rhymes? 13. Is the music slower or faster than in Bryant's “ To a Waterfowl”? 14. Commit to memory the part that you enjoy most.

For Study with the Glossary: flail, lashing, genii, orbéd, glimmering, fleecelike, woof.

Phrases : skyey bowers (home in the skies) at fits (fits and starts), orbè maiden (the maiden that circles around).

THE BELLS

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Hear the sledges with the bells

Silver bells ! What a world of merriment their melody foretells !

How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,

In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells —
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
Hear the mellow wedding-bells —

Golden bells !
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells !

Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight !
From the molten-golden notes,

And all in tune,

What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle dove that listens, while she gloats

On the moon !

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Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells !

How it swells !

How it dwells
On the Future ! how it tells

Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing

Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells !

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Hear the loud alarum bells

Brazen bells !
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells !

In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!

Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,

Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire

Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,

And a resolute endeavor,

Now now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.

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Oh, the bells, bells, bells !
What a tale their terror tells

Of Despair !
How they clang, and clash, and roar!

What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air !

Yet the ear it fully knows,

By the twanging,

And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,

In the jangling,

And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells,

Of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells -
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells !

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Hear the tolling of the bells

Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels !

In the silence of the night

How we shiver with affright 25 At the melancholy menace of their tone!

For every sound that floats

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