Let the bell toll!- -a saintly soul floats on the Stygian river; And, Guy De Vere, hast thou no tear?-weep now or never more! sung! See! on yon drear and rigid bier low lies thy love, Lenore! RETCHES! ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride, How shall the ritual, then, be read?--the requiem how be sung tongue That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?" Peccavimus; but rave not thus! and let a Sabbath song Go up to God so solemnly the dead may feel no wrong! The sweet Lenore hath " gone before," with Hope, that flew beside, For her, the fair and débonnaire, that now so lowly lies, The life still there, upon her hair—the death upon her eyes. 66 Avaunt! to-night my heart is light. No dirge will I upraise, But waft the angel on her flight with a pavan of old days! Let no bell toll!-lest her sweet soul, amid its hallowed mirth, |