You May Also Like / View all maxioms
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness read more
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land;
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow.
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow.
The Bell never rings of itself; unless some one handles or moves
it it is dumb.
[Lat., Nunquam read more
The Bell never rings of itself; unless some one handles or moves
it it is dumb.
[Lat., Nunquam aedepol temere tinniit tintinnabulum;
Nisi quis illud tractat aut movet, mutum est, tacet.]
Hark! the bonny Christ-Church bells,
One, two, three, four, five, six;
They sound so woundy great,
read more
Hark! the bonny Christ-Church bells,
One, two, three, four, five, six;
They sound so woundy great,
So wound'rous sweet,
And they troul so merrily.
These bells have been anointed,
And baptized with holy water!
These bells have been anointed,
And baptized with holy water!
How like the leper, with his own sad cry
Enforcing his own solitude, it tolls!
That lonely read more
How like the leper, with his own sad cry
Enforcing his own solitude, it tolls!
That lonely bell set in the rushing shoals,
To warn us from the place of jeopardy!
The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers ran by two, by three;
"Pull, if ye read more
The old mayor climbed the belfry tower,
The ringers ran by two, by three;
"Pull, if ye never pulled before;
Good ringers, pull your best," quoth he.
"Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston bells!
Ply all your changes, all your swells,
Play uppe The Brides of Enderby."
Hark, how chimes the passing bell!
There's no music to a knell;
All the other sounds we read more
Hark, how chimes the passing bell!
There's no music to a knell;
All the other sounds we hear,
Flatter, and but cheat our ear.
This doth put us still in mind
That our flesh must be resigned,
And, a general silence made,
The world be muffled in a shade.
[Orpheus' lute, as poets tell,
Was but moral of this bell,
And the captive soul was she,
Which they called Eurydice,
Rescued by our holy groan,
A loud echo to this tone.]
