The Shandon Bells

Sabbata Pango;
Funera Plango;
Solemnia Clango.
INSCRIPTION ON AN OLD BELL.
 
With deep affection 
And recollection 
I often think of 
  Those Shandon bells, 
Whose sounds so wild would,
In the days of childhood, 
Fling round my cradle 
  Their magic spells. 
On this I ponder 
Where’er I wander,   
And thus grow fonder, 
  Sweet Cork, of thee, 
With thy bells of Shandon, 
That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters  
  Of the river Lee. 
 
I ’ve heard bells chiming 
Full many a clime in, 
Tolling sublime in 
  Cathedral shrine,  
While at a glibe rate 
Brass tongues would vibrate— 
But all their music 
  Spoke naught like thine; 
For memory, dwelling   
On each proud swelling 
Of the belfry, knelling 
  Its bold notes free, 
Made the bells of Shandon 
Sound far more grand on  
The pleasant waters 
  Of the river Lee. 
 
I ’ve heard bells tolling 
Old Adrian’s Mole in, 
Their thunder rolling  
  From the Vatican, 
And cymbals glorious 
Swinging uproarious 
In the gorgeous turrets 
  Of Notre Dame;   
But thy sounds were sweeter 
Than the dome of Peter 
Flings o’er the Tiber, 
  Pealing solemnly: 
Oh! the bells of Shandon  
Sound far more grand on 
The pleasant waters 
  Of the river Lee. 
 
There ’s a bell in Moscow; 
While on tower and kiosk oh!
In Saint Sophia 
  The Turkman gets, 
And loud in air 
Calls men to prayer, 
From the tapering summit 
  Of tall minarets. 
Such empty phantom 
I freely grant them; 
But there ’s an anthem 
  More dear to me:   
’T is the bells of Shandon, 
That sound so grand on 
The pleasant waters 
  Of the river Lee.