IV

UNDER THE RED TERROR

_What of the night, O Antwerp bells,
Over the city swinging,
Plaintive and sad, O kingly bells,
In the winter midnight ringing?_

_And the winds in the belfry moan
From the sand-dunes waste and lone,
And these are the words they say,
The turreted bells and they--_

_"Calamtout, Krabbendyk, Calloo,"
Say the noisy, turbulent crew;
"Jabbeké, Chaam, Waterloo;
Hoggerhaed, Sandvaet, Lilloo,
We are weary, a-weary of you!
We sigh for the hills of snow,
For the hills where the hunters go,
For the Matterhorn, Wetterhorn, Dom,
For the Dom! Dom! Dom!
For the summer sun and the rustling corn,
And the pleasant vales of the Rhineland valley_."

"_The Bells of Antwerp_."