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When the Bells of Rylstone played
Their Sabbath music—“God us ayde!”
That was the sound they seemed to speak;
Inscriptive legend, which I ween
May on those holy Bells be seen,
That legend and her Grandsire’s name;
And oftentimes the Lady meek
Had in her Childhood read the same,
Words which she slighted at that day;
But now, when such sad change was wrought,
And of that lonely name she thought,
The Bells of Rylstone seemed to say,
While she sate listening in the shade,
With vocal music, “God us ayde!”
And all the Hills were glad to bear
Their part in this effectual prayer.
Nor lacked she Reason’s firmest power;
But with the White Doe at her side
