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Thou tedious herald of more tedious prayers,
Say hast thou ever summoned from his rest,
One being awakening to religious cares?
Or rous'd one pious transport in the breast?
Or rather, do not all reluctant creep
To linger out the hour, in listlessness or sleep!
Say hast thou ever summoned from his rest,
One being awakening to religious cares?
Or rous'd one pious transport in the breast?
Or rather, do not all reluctant creep
To linger out the hour, in listlessness or sleep!
I love the bell, that calls the poor to pray
Chiming from village church its chearful sound,
When the sun smiles on Labour's holy-day,
And all the rustic train are gather'd round,
Each deftly dizen'd in his Sunday's best
And pleas'd to hail the day of piety and rest.
Chiming from village church its chearful sound,
When the sun smiles on Labour's holy-day,
And all the rustic train are gather'd round,
Each deftly dizen'd in his Sunday's best
And pleas'd to hail the day of piety and rest.
Or when, dim shadowing o'er the face of day,
The mantling mists of even-tide rise slow,
As thro' the forest gloom I wend my way,
The minster curfew's sullen roar I know;
I pause and love its solemn toll to hear,
As made by distance soft, it dies upon the ear.
The mantling mists of even-tide rise slow,
As thro' the forest gloom I wend my way,
The minster curfew's sullen roar I know;
I pause and love its solemn toll to hear,
As made by distance soft, it dies upon the ear.
