The Bells of Malines
The gabled roofs of old MalinesAre russet red and gray and green,And o'er them in the sunset hourLooms, dark and huge, St. Rombold's tower.High in that rugged nest concealed,The sweetest bells that ever pealed,The deepest bells that ever rung,The lightest bells that ever sung,Are waiting for the master's handTo fling their music o'er the land.
And shall they ring to-night, Malines?In nineteen hundred and fourteen,The frightful year, the year of woe,When fire and blood and rapine flowAcross the land from lost Liege,Storm-driven by the German rage?The other carillons have ceased:Fallen is Hasselt, fallen Diest,From Ghent and Bruges no voices come,Antwerp is silent, Brussels dumb!
But in thy belfry, O Malines,The master of the bells unseenHas climbed to where the keyboard stands,--To-night his heart is in his hands!Once more, before invasion's hellBreaks round the tower he loves so well,Once more he strikes the well-worn keys,And sends aerial harmoniesFar-floating through the twilight dimIn patriot song and holy hymn.
O listen, burghers of Malines!Soldier and workman, pale beguine,And mother with a trembling flockOf children clinging to thy frock,--Look up and listen, listen all!What tunes are these that gently fallAround you like a benison?"The Flemish Lion," "Brabanconne,""O brave Liege," and all the airsThat Belgium in her bosom bears.
Ring up, ye silvery octaves high,Whose notes like circling swallows fly;And ring, each old sonorous bell,--"Jesu," "Maria," "Michael!"Weave in and out, and high and low,The magic music that you know,And let it float and flutter downTo cheer the heart of the troubled town.Ring out, "Salvator," lord of all,--"Roland" in Ghent may hear thee call!
O brave bell-music of Malines,In this dark hour how much you mean!The dreadful night of blood and tearsSweeps down on Belgium, but she hearsDeep in her heart the melodyOf songs she learned when she was free.She will not falter, faint, nor fail,But fight until her rights prevailAnd all her ancient belfries ring"The Flemish Lion," "God Save the King!"
Words in this poem
- rung n.
- A floor timber in a ship. [OE. ronge, AS. hrung, a staff, rod, pole; akin to G. runge a short, thick piece of iron or wood, OD. ronghe a prop, support, Icel. röng a rib in a ship, Goth. H]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- frightful a.
- Full of fright; affrighted; frightened.
- liege a.
- Sovereign; independent; having authority or right to allegiance; as, a liege lord. [OE. lige, lege, F. lige, LL. ligius, legius, liege, unlimited, complete, prob. of German origin; cf. G. ledig free from bonds and obstacles, MHG. ledec, ledic, ]
- belfry n.
- A movable tower erected by besiegers for purposes of attack and defense. [OE. berfray movable tower used in sieges, OF. berfreit, berfroit, F. beffroi, fr. MHG. bervrit, bercvrit, G. bergfriede, fr. MHG. bergen to protect (G. bergen t]
- unseen a.
- Not seen or discovered.
- beguine n.
- A woman belonging to one of the religious and charitable associations or communities in the Netherlands, and elsewhere, whose members live in beguinages and are not bound by perpetual vows. [F. béguine; LL. beguina, beghina; fr. Lambert le Bègue (the Stammerer) the founder of the order. (Du Cange.)]
- benison n.
- Blessing; beatitude; benediction. [OE. beneysun, benesoun, OF. beneï, beneïson, fr. L. benedictio, fr. benedicere to bless; bene (adv. of bonus good) + dicere to say. See Bounty, and Diction, and]
- dreadful a.
- Full of dread or terror; fearful.
- falter v. t.
- To thrash in the chaff; also, to cleanse or sift, as barley.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Bells of Malines is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of Henry Van Dyke, Project Gutenberg ebook #16229; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Henry Van Dyke, The Bells of Malines, in The Poems of Henry Van Dyke (1925), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #16229, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/van-dyke-poems/the-bells-of-malines.html, id L22933.
Form and metre
The Bells of Malines is 60 lines in 6 stanzas of 10 lines each. It is in rhyming couplets, 73% of the lines: octosyllabic couplets. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%).
See other poems in octosyllabic couplets, other poems in iambic tetrameter.
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 --AABBCCDD malines · green · hourA · towerA · concealedB · pealedB · rungC · sungC · handD · landD
- 2 --AA--BBCC malines · fourteen · woeA · flowA · liege · rage · ceasedB · diestB · comeC · dumbC
- 3 --AABBCCDD malines · unseen · standsA · handsA · hellB · wellB · keysC · harmoniesC · dimD · hymnD
- 4 --AABB--CC malines · beguine · flockA · frockA · allB · fallB · benison · brabanconne · airsC · bearsC
- 5 AABBCCDDEE highA · flyA · bellB · michaelB · lowC · knowC · downD · townD · allE · callE
- 6 --AA--BBCC malines · mean · tearsA · hearsA · melody · free · failB · prevailB · ringC · kingC
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 tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| The gabled roofs of old Malines | 8 | ·/˘···/˘ |
| Are russet red and gray and green, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And o'er them in the sunset hour | 9 | ·····/·/˘ |
| Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold's tower. | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| High in that rugged nest concealed, | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| The sweetest bells that ever pealed, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| The deepest bells that ever rung, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| The lightest bells that ever sung, | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Are waiting for the master's hand | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| To fling their music o'er the land. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| And shall they ring to-night, Malines? | 8 | ······/˘ |
| In nineteen hundred and fourteen, | 8 | ·///˘··/ |
| The frightful year, the year of woe, | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| When fire and blood and rapine flow | 8 | ·/···/˘· |
| Across the land from lost Liege, | 7 | ˘/····· |
| Storm-driven by the German rage? | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| The other carillons have ceased: | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Fallen is Hasselt, fallen Diest, | 8 | /˘···/˘· |
| From Ghent and Bruges no voices come, | 9 | ···/˘·/˘· |
| Antwerp is silent, Brussels dumb! | 8 | /˘·/˘/˘· |
| But in thy belfry, O Malines, | 8 | ···/˘·/˘ |
| The master of the bells unseen | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| Has climbed to where the keyboard stands,-- | 8 | ·····/·· |
| To-night his heart is in his hands! | 8 | ········ |
| Once more, before invasion's hell | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Breaks round the tower he loves so well, | 8 | ···/···· |
| Once more he strikes the well-worn keys, | 8 | ········ |
| And sends aerial harmonies | 8 | ··/˘˘/˘˘ |
| Far-floating through the twilight dim | 8 | ·/˘··/·· |
| In patriot song and holy hymn. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| O listen, burghers of Malines! | 8 | ·/˘/˘·/˘ |
| Soldier and workman, pale beguine, | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| And mother with a trembling flock | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Of children clinging to thy frock,-- | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| Look up and listen, listen all! | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| What tunes are these that gently fall | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Around you like a benison? | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| "The Flemish Lion," "Brabanconne," | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| "O brave Liege," and all the airs | 7 | ······· |
| That Belgium in her bosom bears. | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| Ring up, ye silvery octaves high, | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| Whose notes like circling swallows fly; | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| And ring, each old sonorous bell,-- | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| "Jesu," "Maria," "Michael!" | 7 | /˘˘/˘/˘ |
| Weave in and out, and high and low, | 8 | ········ |
| The magic music that you know, | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| And let it float and flutter down | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| To cheer the heart of the troubled town. | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Ring out, "Salvator," lord of all,-- | 8 | ········ |
| "Roland" in Ghent may hear thee call! | 8 | /˘······ |
| O brave bell-music of Malines, | 8 | ···/˘·/˘ |
| In this dark hour how much you mean! | 8 | ···/···· |
| The dreadful night of blood and tears | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Sweeps down on Belgium, but she hears | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Deep in her heart the melody | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| Of songs she learned when she was free. | 8 | ········ |
| She will not falter, faint, nor fail, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| But fight until her rights prevail | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And all her ancient belfries ring | 8 | ···/˘/˘· |
| "The Flemish Lion," "God Save the King!" | 8 | ·/˘/···· |
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.