The Bells, Ostend
How sweet the tuneful bells' responsive peal!As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breezeBreathes on the trembling sense of pale disease,So piercing to my heart their force I feel!And hark! with lessening cadence now they fall!And now, along the white and level tide,They fling their melancholy music wide;Bidding me many a tender thought recallOf summer-days, and those delightful yearsWhen from an ancient tower, in life's fair prime,The mournful magic of their mingling chimeFirst waked my wondering childhood into tears!But seeming now, when all those days are o'er,The sounds of joy once heard, and heard no more.
Words in this poem
- tuneful a.
- Harmonious; melodious; musical; as, tuneful notes.
- responsive a.
- That responds; ready or inclined to respond. [Cf. F. resposif.]
- peal v. i.
- To appeal. Spencer.
- morn n.
- The first part of the day; the morning; -- used chiefly in poetry. [OE. morwen, morgen, AS. morgen; akin to D. morgen, OS. morgan, G. morgen, Icel. morginn, morgunn, Sw. morgon, Dan. morgen, Goth. maúrgins. Cf. Morrow, Morning.]
- chime n.
- The harmonious sound of bells, or of musical instruments. [OE. chimbe, prop., cymbal, OF. cymbe, cymble, in a dialectic form, chymble, F. cymbale, L. cymbalum, fr. Gr. Cymbal.]
- childhood n.
- The state of being a child; the time in which persons are children; the condition or time from infancy to puberty. [AS. cildhad; cild child + -had. See Child, and hood.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Bells, Ostend is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles, Vol. 1 With Memoir, Critical Dissertation, and Explanatory Notes by George Gilfillan, Project Gutenberg ebook #18915; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: William Lisle Bowles, The Bells, Ostend, in The Poetical Works, Volume I (1789–1837), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #18915, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/bowles-sonnets/the-bells-ostend.html, id L09884.
Form and metre
The Bells, Ostend is 14 lines in a single stanza. It rhymes ABABCDCDEFEFGG, the pattern of the English sonnet. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 98% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 29% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other English sonnets, other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABABCDCDEFEFGG pealA · breezeB · diseaseA · feelB · fallC · tideD · wideC · recallD · yearsE · primeF · chimeE · tearsF · o'erG · moreG
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| How sweet the tuneful bells' responsive peal! | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breeze | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Breathes on the trembling sense of pale disease, | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| So piercing to my heart their force I feel! | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| And hark! with lessening cadence now they fall! | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| And now, along the white and level tide, | 10 | ··˘/···/˘· |
| They fling their melancholy music wide; | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| Bidding me many a tender thought recall | 10 | /˘·/·/˘·˘/ |
| Of summer-days, and those delightful years | 10 | ·/˘···˘/˘· |
| When from an ancient tower, in life's fair prime, | 10 | ···/˘/···· |
| The mournful magic of their mingling chime | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| First waked my wondering childhood into tears! | 10 | ···/˘/···· |
| But seeming now, when all those days are o'er, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| The sounds of joy once heard, and heard no more. | 10 | ·········· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.