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“The Bells”: Edgar Allan Poe; poem and analysis.
The bells (The Bells) is a Gothic poem by the American writer Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849), composed in May 1848 and published posthumously in the November 1849 issue of Sartain’s Union Magazine.
The inspiration behind The bells was Marie Louise Shew, a woman who helped Edgar Allan Poe in the care of his wife, Virginia Clemm, during her dying. After Virginia’s death, EA Poe He fell into a dark period of depression and creative emptiness. Shew suggested that he compose a few verses about ringing bells, and possibly collaborated on the first few verses.
Whatever its origin, the truth is that The bells It is much more like a mantra, a spell, an incantation, than a traditional poem.
Edgar Allan Poe insists again and again on the word bells, both to generate the effect of ringing bells and to produce a feeling of unreality in the reader. The poem also groups together puzzling terms, such as tintinnabulation, which could be linked to a medieval instrument called a tintinabula; and ghouls, those ghoul creatures of cemeteries that would later be considered an unusual race of vampires by Gothic literature.
As the verses of The bells of Edgar Allan Poe As they pass, the plot darkens, it is filled with nocturnal and suggestive silhouettes. In a certain way, it functions as a kind of lethargy, of induced sleep, which in the twilight of his visions transforms into a nightmare: the sweet ringing of the bells, sonorous and even colorful at first, becomes a frightening and gloomy symphony, like the mechanical hammering of an artificial storm.
The bells.
The Bells, Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)
Listen to the sleighs with the bells,
Silver bells!
What a world of joys their melodies predict!
How they sing, sing, sing,
In the freezing night air!
While the stars that twinkle,
Across the sky they seem to flicker
With crystal clear pleasure;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a kind of runic tempo
In that symphony of musical tune,
Of those bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells,
Of the vibrating and ringing of the bells.
Hear the soft wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness its harmony predicts
In the fragrant night air!
How they share their deliciousness around the world!
From the molten gold of its notes,
And everything in tune,
The liquid poem floats,
For the bride who listens, while she rejoices
On the moon.
Oh, from the sonorous cells
What a source of voluminous fascination it sounds!
How it dilates!
How do you rest?
In the future! As it does
The outburst that excites
The rocking and the clattering
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Bells, Bells, Bells;
Of the rhythm and tremor of the bells.
Listen to the ringing bells,
Bronze bells!
What a horror story its turbulence now tells!
In the alarmed ear of the night
How they scream their horror!
Too scared to speak,
They can only scream, scream
Out of tone,
Cryingly invoking for the mercy of fire,
In a mad argument with the deaf and frantic fire,
That rises high, high, high,
With a desperate desire,
And with a determined spirit
Now, locate yourself now, or never,
Next to the pale face of the moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a story it tells us
His Desperate Terror!
How they grind, crash and roar!
What horror they spill
Upon the chest of the pulsating air!
However, the ear fully understands,
By its ringing,
For its resonance,
How danger falls and rises;
The ear clearly distinguishes it,
In the twist,
In the balance,
How danger sinks and rises
Because of the tiredness or the anger of the bells,
Of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells.
In the noise and clamor of the bells!
Listen to the ringing of the bells.
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thoughts its monotony suggests to us
In the silence of the night!
How we tremble with fear
With the melancholy promise of its tone!
Well every sound that floats
From the rust of their throats,
It’s a moan.
And the people -ah, the people-
Who lives on the bell tower,
Alone,
And it turns, turns, turns
In that muffled and monotonous sound,
They feel the glory when throwing
A rock in the human heart.
They are neither man nor woman,
They are neither wild nor human,
They are Ghouls;
And their king is the one who swings,
And hit, hit, hit
His hymn on the bells.
And he dances and shouts,
Marking time, time, time;
In a kind of runic tempo
Of the beating of the bells;
Of the bells, bells, bells;
From the wail of the bells,
Saving time, time, time,
Playing suddenly, suddenly, suddenly;
In a happy runic rhythm,
To the ringing of the bells.
Of the bells, bells, bells;
To the swinging of the bells;
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells.
To the moan and lament of 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 tintinabulation 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!
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!
Hear the loud alarum bells—
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulence 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 appeal 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 effort
Now—now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
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!
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
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people—ah, the people—
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone—
They are neither man nor woman—
They are neither brute nor human—
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A pæan from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the pæan of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the pæan of the bells—
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As I knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells—
Of the bells, bells, bells—
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells—
Bells, bells, bells—
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849)
More gothic poems. I Poems by Edgar Allan Poe.
More gothic literature:
The analysis, summary and translation into Spanish of the poem by Edgar Allan Poe: The bells (The Bells), were made by . For reproduction, write to us at
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