THE BELFRY OF BRUGES. In the market-place of Bruges stands the belfry old and brown; Thrice consumed and thrice rebuilded, still it watches o'er the town. As the summer morn was breaking, on that lofty tower I stood, And the world threw off the darkness, like the weeds of widowhood. Thick with towns and hamlets studded At my feet the city slumbered. Fron neys, here and there, Wreaths of snow-white smoke, ascen ished, ghost-like, into air. But I heard a heart of iron beating in th with I and him van early cient the med Then most musical and solemn, bringing back With their strange, unearthly changes rang the Like the psalms from some old cloister, when And the great bell tolled among them, like the Visions of the days departed, shadowy phantoms They who live in history only seemed to walk All the Foresters of Flanders, - mighty Bald- Lyderick du Bucq and Cressy, Philip, Guy de 8 I beheld the pageants splendid, t those days of old; Stately dames, like queens attended, bore the Fleece of Gold; Lombard and Venetian merchants laden argosies; Ministers from twenty nations; more pomp and ease. I beheld proud Maximilian, kneeling the ground; I beheld the gentle Mary, hunting with and hound; And her lighted bridal-chamber, whe slept with the queen, And the armed guard around them, sword unsheathed between. dorned ts who deep royal bly on hawk duke d the I beheld the Flemish weavers, with Namur and Juliers bold, Marching homeward from the bloody battle of the Spurs of Gold; Saw the fight at Minnewater, saw the White Saw great Artevelde victorious scale the Golden And again the whiskered Spaniard all the land with terror smote ; And again the wild alarum sounded from the tocsin's throat; Till the bell of Ghent responded o'er lagoon and dike of sand, "I am Roland! I am Roland! there is victory in the land!" |